blurred vision and soft hands
by demacianlight
Summary: Who do you see when lights are dim? Who do feel when it seems like there is no one left? When your world shakes, who stands by you? Best friends can go far but what if they're more than that? What if just for once...( Set fours years after season 4 )
1. Fairy Tales

Dreams are tangible. In every sense they are tangible to a person. It lies with one's want and perseverance to be able to go for that vivid thought in their mind. To make it happen, one must go for their dream. Sitting back and waiting for something to happen can only go so far and even so, the feat is only presented to those with extreme luck. Dreams can be scary, they can be calming, and sometimes they can be hopeful. They can come and go but those that hold on are the ones that a person should truly go for. Not that everyone shares the same sentiments on blurry pictures while unconscious, but dreams can out reach far more than a sleeping body and an active mind. Dreams can be anything…anyone.

If a person wants something bad enough, it will come to them because the will it to happen. They want it to happen. But that's not for lack of trying hard and working for it. Nothing great ever did come free and if it did, they must have been really lucky to be granted such pleasantries in a world where only the worst things are ever free of charge.

Kurt Hummel. Perfect example of a dreamer and a person who doesn't give up, even with odds stacked as high sky scrapers, the boy still makes it through. Mind you, he is not unscathed but he does make it. He gets into the school of his dream after countless tries of putting himself out there. After all, New York is a cesspool of open ended dreams and opportunities. Some just have to look hard enough to find those doors that open both ways, or doors that never shut. He can be categorized as lucky but in all honesty, his dreams were big enough to scare him and it never hurts to do the things that scare you the most. As ridiculous and arbitrary as events may seem, things happen for a reason. Failure is not the definition of a person's worth, it just adds to it. Rachel Berry on the other hand would most likely be categorized under… well; select words can be used for such a driven character.  
Both were brave enough to go for a dream that neither could share but it didn't stop them from actually trying to kill two birds with one stone. Rachel's powerhouse voice did get her into her NYADA but as much as her five foot nothing frame loves the spotlight her penchant for disastrous relationships was a lot more riveting and exciting.

Everyone has their moments.

Everyone has that someone that they all know is bad for them but nonetheless still continues a menial relationship that eventually drags them to the ground. Rachel Berry just hasn't learned her lesson yet. Not many are convinced she will, but everything and anyone is subject to anything below the age of twenty-seven. Who knows, maybe she will learn her lesson with someone who can actually keep up with her, or maybe she will finally understand that it's lonely at the top and sometimes a person just has to be alone.

Relationships aside or at least Rachel Berry aside, the dynamic duo isn't all glam and glitter or well maybe they are but with a little bit of the years behind them, some would like to think the two have grown a little.

"Get your horribly manicured hands off the remote!"

Or not.

"Kurt, as much as I love our daily rituals of watching reruns of America's Next Top Model, I think it's time for a change!" A person wouldn't be able to tell by the shrillness of it but Rachel's voice outside of singing can actually be nauseating. Kurt is just an unfortunate soul that has been living with her long enough to get used to it. It's been enough winters, holidays, and summers that he can have a conversation and not cringe at the sound.

There is a tug and pull but Rachel is no match for Kurt's obvious death grip on the slim remote. He might have been a scrawny kid in high school but New York does have an affect on people. People grow. Mentally and physically, after all one does need a certain body structure to fill an Armani tailored suit without making it seem like you are just___trying_ to fit in.

Another pull and this time Kurt wrenches the remote out of Rachel's grabby hands and high enough for her to slouch in defeat, but not without a swift kick to an open shin which Kurt only frowns at the poor attempt.

"You know, I may have been open to the idea of change! If you would have talked about it before hand rather than switch the channel before the winner was announced!" He stands with his broad five foot eleven frame, long gone are the days where he can be thrown easily into a dumpster.

Rachel can only roll her eyes as she too stands but her height still does nothing to give her an advantage, "You've seen this episode a million times, Kurt! I don't understand why changing it is such a terrible thing when something much more-"

Kurt replies with his own eye roll and a heavy sigh, his patience growing thin with Rachel's antics and constant need of an argument to fill her argument quota for the day, "Why can't you just enjoy our daily TV night? I hate that I have to fight like an old married couple every single time I come home. Don't you have your own boyfriend to fight with?"

A huff and Rachel sits back down with her arms across her chest like a temper tantrum throwing toddler. In honesty, she does have her own boyfriend to bicker with but Kurt will only go so far to mention the recent disaster of Rachel Berry's life. He might have changed over the years but he still knows his limits when it comes to relationships and Rachel. Personally the boyfriend hasn't even come to the apartment yet and Kurt is actually glad, Rachel would only flaunt the outer qualities of the guy before running out of body parts to talk about.

Twenty-four and Rachel Berry is still as transparent as ever with her choices in men.

She's beginning to pout her way to getting what she wants. Her lips jut out slightly and her eyes widening with a small resemblance to child inching their way out of trouble. His eyebrows rise in an expectant fashion, waiting for her to come up with something else to use, not that she will but he doesn't doubt that she can. As predictable as she is, there are times when Rachel can actually surprise people.

"He missed our one month anniversary."

This however is not a time of surprise.

Kurt sympathetically loosens his stance and stares at his roommate. It always turns into a discussion about Rachel's latest boyfriend problems but lately, that's all that seems to come out of her. Her views and stand points on Broadway barely make it to dinner when all she can do is talk about how perfect or how horrible her boyfriend is that day. It's hard to mark one night in the last month where she hasn't complained about her recent debacle of a relationship. When she does, Kurt has to bite his tongue to not yell and scream to just end the relationship while she still can, but doing so would only mean nights of silence and tubs of ice cream which he seriously doesn't need if he wants to fit into his spring collection.

Tears are streaming down her face already and Kurt almost wants to ask if she's early this month. He refrains from doing so when she quickly jumps up to snatch the remote out of his hand but misses by a second when his hand shoots up in the air, "Really, Rachel? Using your relationship problems and my sympathy to get a remote? I'm ashamed."

She's jumping around desperately but to no avail. Neither notices their front door opening. Or the knock that accompanies it afterward or the figure that just stands and watches.

"So this is the reason for you two not to pick me up at the airport?"

Rachel stills and Kurt looks surprised at their house guest, who apparently has a key to their apartment, "How did-"

A hand waves in the air dismissively before Kurt can finish his question, "There are only so many places the hobbit can reach to hide a key. Surprise, surprise! It's taped under the welcome mat. Have you two learned nothing from me?"

Kurt passes the remote to Rachel with disinterest to their previous squabble and makes his way towards their guest with a more warming demeanor, "You weren't due in for another two hours." His eyes show his disbelief that their guest is actually in their living room and he doesn't hide it.

Living with Rachel Berry has its perks but even Kurt Hummel has his limits on how long he can last in Rachel's company. Different faces are a rarity but always welcomed. He embraces the slightly shorter figure but does well not linger knowing the extent of affection their guest can take, "Why didn't you call?"  
"Like you would give up an America's Next Top Model rerun, Kurt." Rachel stands in front of the television, channels switching constantly as the numbers on the top right hand corner change.

Kurt waves a hand in the air again and ignores his bitter roommate. His interest now to their guest as his eyes take an appreciative look at the person in front of him, "You know, for someone who has just flown half across the country," His hands motions to their attire, "You don't look half bad, Santana."

"I feel pretty horrible. The entire plane ride felt like I was stuck in a maternity ward. A baby everywhere I turned like it was the fucking baby boom or something. I wanted to gag the entire time with the smell of sour milk and other things." Santana scrunches her noise at the memory of her plane ride and shakes her head to rid the thought of baby puke and bodily fluids, "I hope you guys don't mind I stopped by here first."

Rachel continues to flip channels but readily gives up when she can't find what she is looking for. Discarding the remote aside she walks towards the other two occupants of the room and purses her lips, "We all know you are only doing this to take an opportunity at our fridge. I don't understand why you insist on taking our food when you have a perfectly capable kitchen in your own apartment."

Kurt sighs and shakes his head while leading Santana into the kitchen but not before turning his head to reply over his shoulder, "Because it's Satan's mission to make your life miserable."

Despite the jabs and the taunts, Rachel nonetheless smiles and follows the duo. Her form routinely making her way around the kitchen as the two discuss the ins and outs of Santana's trip to Los Angeles.

Kurt readily seats himself on a stool with his elbows at their kitchen island. His hands supporting his face as he gives his full attention to Santana and her stories of the world in the west, "How was it? I was Facebook stalking and saw the opening night pictures."

Santana takes a seat across from Kurt and mirrors his position mockingly but only for a second before sitting upright, "It was fun. Britt is doing amazing out there. She's making a trip over soon."

Kurt narrows his eyes briefly, "Hopefully, Mercedes will be making that reservation for her because last time she booked a ticket to Japan."

Rachel sets down three glasses as she pops open a bottle of red wine. She doesn't pour them but sits to join the conversation, "I think she really wanted to go to Japan. I wouldn't put it past her to get sidetracked and actually book the trip based on interest. I don't think it was a mistake on her part to be honest."

Kurt takes a glass and offers one to Santana who wordlessly accepts, "Either way, she is planning on visiting with Wheezy and Boy Chang. I wasn't given exact dates but tentative Christmas time." Kurt nods whiles pouring each glass with wine, his interest in the conversation dimming as he carefully looks at Santana in suspicion.

"You didn't sleep with Brittany did you?" Rachel raises an eyebrow in surprise. Eyes already doing their own searching of Santana's features. However, Rachel's sudden interest doesn't go unnoticed by Santana who just shakes her head at both of them. She doesn't deny or confirm but she shakes her head in amusement.

The eye rolls are in unison but it doesn't stop Kurt from digging further. Gossip is not exactly something her can ever grow tired of, "Did you sleep with anyone?"

A small smile plays on their former high school friend's lip and Kurt is at a loss. It usually doesn't take much for Santana to dish out details on her escapades, even if it was only Brittany, but this would mark the first time in all of her trips back from L.A that she stays quiet. It intrigues him to say the least.

"My, my, has someone finally beaten down your icy walls? Walked through the valley of fire and death?" Kurt takes a sip of his wine and watches Santana with a careful stare. Between Rachel and Santana, Kurt always preferred the latter's relationship problems more than the former's. Something about Santana's inability to feel emotions after three months always interested Kurt's fascination with human behavior amongst his friends.

"Bat your pretty lashes all you want porcelain, your weird obsession with my sexual encounters is coming to a halt tonight." She finishes her wine before Kurt can protest and makes a motion to stand, "Before I know it, you are going to ask if I've slept with Quinn."

Kurt snorts and joins Santana in standing, his glass now empty leaving only Rachel to catch up. Confusion written over her face towards the direction of the conversation as Kurt lightly skips behind Santana, a widening grin adorning his face, "If memory serves correct you two did have something back during our freshman year of college."

Rachel furrows her brow and stands forgetting her drink altogether, "Excuse me? No one ever told me!"

"Way to go, glitter box." Santana walks back over to the entrance where her suitcase resides, her hands already lifting the handle to roll it away. The conversation already turning at point she isn't sure she can deal with, "Sorry, Rachel. It wasn't really anything to be honest. It might have been something to our high school selves if you count leering as a connection."

"I understand why you wouldn't tell me, Santana, but for Quinn not to tell me." A hint of sadness coating her voice, "It seems like it was a little more than leering if Kurt's mentioning it. He may be a gossip mongrel but he is never one to down play a situation for what it really is." There is a look of hurt over Rachel's features and Santana almost feels half bad for keeping something from her. Despite their early years, the two have become semi close, and neither would ever admit that they have become more like best friends over their time in New York. With Rachel and Kurt being the only ones that knew of Santana's big move from Kentucky to the big apple, it was inevitable that they would be friends. Rachel, of course, took a little bit more time than Kurt to be in Santana's good graces but she got there eventually. Like most people, Santana couldn't argue that the girl had talent. Occasionally the two would sing together on a good day, sometimes all three, but by no means would either of them admit that they were at all the best of friends. No one believed them half the time anyway.

"Quinn didn't tell you because it wasn't anything to talk about Rachel. Kurt is just pulling on strings because I won't tell him about anything that happened in L.A." Rachel doesn't seem convinced and twists her fingers with uncertainty, "Seriously Berry, if Q and I were to hook up, you guys would be the first to find out. I'd probably coming barging in here pleading the fifth and to put me in a mental institute. The girl is gorgeous but you know what they say about those."

"The same thing they say about you." Kurt doesn't miss a beat and Santana hides her pride that her glitter loving friend hasn't lost his sharpness with her absence. Kurt always was her favorite in the sass department.

"Rude." He does a little motion with his head and continues to smile. Santana doesn't waste time to playfully swat him.

"Careful! I bruise easily!" There is an uncharacteristic snort from Santana but she doesn't say anything back. Her focus is more on Rachel's nerves rather than Kurt's childishness.

"But seriously, nothing happened then and nothing happened in L.A. I was the good kid for once. I will say that Wheezy does a have fine piece of unf hanging on her arm these days. Chang isn't doing too badly even though he still mentions Tina every chance he gets. Britt is actually focusing on her dance. Last I heard, she was dating one of her dancer buddies. I don't know about now, but Britts was always about the art rather than anything else." Rachel finally looks like she is breathing rather than holding in everything like a constipated infant. Not a face that Rachel should be having, especially when all Santana ever relates it to is what's-his-face-hudson.

A reassuring hand goes out to the smaller girl and Rachel outwardly nods. Santana doesn't say much after but does give both friends a hug before wheeling out her suitcase into the darker hallway. Kurt has the mind to offer to help but he knows the girl would only refuse, telling him something about women and their capability to take care of themselves.

The door clicks closed and while Rachel makes her way back to the living room to turn the TV back on, Kurt pulls out his iPhone and quickly thumbs over the keys.

___Pinocchio._

A reply is instantaneous and Kurt can only shake his head.

___Gossip Girl._


	2. Jungle

New York is a lively city; albeit it does have its slums and not so safe parks, but even those areas bring life to the city. The people are just a bonus. If it was deserted and all the city had were lights, it still would shine brighter than a single light. People are fillers for open spaces. Space that when they are forced to be filled it just seems too packed, too clustered and before you know it, you're stuck.

A horn blares, tires screech and yellow clashes with silver. Everyone is in such rush that it's like a speed track. Counting seconds before each light turns. Counting minutes before the A train arrives. Everything is a blur. Warping into colours and shapes that everyone has grown so used to that no one knows how to slow down anymore. Slow starters learn fast on how to keep walking and after that stopping isn't an option. It's a jungle, it's a sea, a cesspool of everything and it might sound disgusting and completely unappealing but what it offers with its rush is an escape.

The kind of escape that Santana needed from her life in Kentucky, a life she thought she wanted but when it came down to it, her dream was much different than it had panned out to be. Cheerleading was fun sure but she didn't want to be known for that. To be known for a sport that she had grown to love less with the passing years. She wanted adventure and something new but most of all she wanted a place where she felt alive.

"It's not a day without a cab rear ending another cab." Kurt watches as two cab drivers point violently at each other as their passengers are off to the side, probably calling their respective insurance companies.

Sharks in the water.

"So now that we are well away from Rachel Berry's sonic hearing, are you going to tell me what it is your hiding or are you going to make me guess?" Kurt adjusts his leather messenger bag while he keeps in step with Santana's pace. Even in high heels the girl is out pacing him.

Both stop at a side vendor. Santana already picking out a few items as she continues, "You're reaching for something that doesn't even make sense, Hummel."

She has to fight a few people to pay for her water and bag of chips stuffing them into her tote bag. Her avoidance is obvious which leaves Kurt with a thoughtful look. His eyes cast down to the ground.

"Earth to glitter box?" He snaps his eyes back up to meet Santana's and she has an odd feeling of what's to come. Like Rachel had said the night previous, Kurt is a gossip mongrel. The pretty soprano is capable with a lot of information, most of which he obtains by just listening to people.

"She's here." Kurt trains his eyes on the Santana's smaller figure while he crosses his arms in front of him, "And you know where she is."

Santana rolls her eyes behind her overly large sunglasses and shifts her weight, "First, who is 'she'? Second, living with Rachel has seriously messed with your head, because you sound crazy."

"I may sound crazy but I know you weren't in L.A" Santana visibly stiffens at the accusation and Kurt pushes further, "It's kind of hard to place you across the country when I know for a fact that you were here last week."

They hold each other's stare for what seems like minutes until a runner hits Kurt's shoulder. A small mumble of an apology prevents either from snapping back at the shirtless man. Santana takes the break in contact to gather her thoughts, a slight panic rising within her as Kurt turns his eyes back on her. Looking away will only confirm his assumptions but she can't seem to find the words to explain.

"I can't say anything, Kurt."

Before his eyes held a certain hunger that showed his want to know but at Santana's hesitance he is almost afraid of what is she's is hiding. He brings a hand out for reassurance, for what he doesn't know but he does it regardless. His eyes softening at Santana's visible struggle, "Santana…"

"Seriously, Kurt, this isn't something I can talk about. Whatever you know, keep it to yourself. This isn't-"

"I know she's here. You don't have to tell me or anything. I've seen her." Santana consciously looks around out of habit, the fear of Rachel Berry stalking them in the bushes isn't plausible but it doesn't stop her from checking each one around them. Her stance turning defensive, "I saw you two at LeVain's last Wednesday."

Even with her sunglasses she can't hide the accuracy in his words. She wants to deny it, to tell him he's crazy and that it's New York City. In most cases she could probably get away with 'it could have been anybody' but she knows the truth and it's hard to hide it, "Kurt."

She says his name because it's all she can think of. Her tone suggesting he drop the conversation even though he won't. It's not Kurt Hummel to drop a conversation like this. Santana, of all people know that. Hell, she taught him once she moved in all the hose years ago.

"I just," He takes a step closer as if to keep the conversation between them, to keep his words only for her to hear, "I did the math and I know you went to see her when you told us you were going on some class project trip." He offers a smile, "You never go on those anyway. Your trip to L.A falls around the same time we all stopped hearing from her. I just want to know if she's okay."

The tenderness in his voice seems to calm Santana down but it doesn't excuse the fact that this is a conversation she isn't supposed to be having. Her head is telling her to walk away from it but it's now she can actually see what the unnamed situation is not only doing to her but to others as well. She's torn between loyalties.

A surprising thought to have loyalties with Kurt Hummel. Who would have thought four years ago that she would ever think to be so torn with her now favourite shopping companion?

She sighs and she feels the regret but she pushes aside, "You can't tell Rachel." Kurt instantly nods to her conditions, "She's good but that's all I'm going to say."

Kurt's hands go up instantaneously to dismiss any thoughts of him wanting more. He knows there won't be more. It's a miracle that she is giving him this much. The level of secrecy is enough for him to know just how close this is to Santana as it is to the person she's hiding. There are certain friendships he is a part of and there are certain friendships that he cannot touch. An example would be Rachel's and Santana's but that's mostly due to the fact that he doesn't understand them or he does and he wishes to ignore it. Being both their roommates for a couple years was an adequate amount of time for him to conclude that their friendship is never going to be a normal one.

"If you were anyone else, I would have hard time believing you."

"Yeah well at least you don't have the fear that Rachel Berry is going to jump out of the bushes and yell 'I knew it'. Obviously hiding it from the hobbit is only going to make it worse but that isn't my call." She gestures with hand for Kurt to move closer to the side when another runner pads closer to them, "I'm well prepared if she comes at me with being a horrible friend for not telling her but I can't do anything."

Kurt's eyebrows crease and he wonders just how much he ignores when it comes to certain friendships. It's easy for him to count the number of people Santana has ever gone this far to keep safe and that is only two if he includes Santana herself. The way her eyes darken as if she is ready to attack anyone is good tell that this isn't a light matter, "I guess I underestimated the friendship that is Quinn and Santana."

He smiles despite the seriousness of the conversation. It's a surprise to say the least and he doesn't even know the full story. He pulls her in for a hug, catching her off guard, "It's really hard to call you a bad friend when you are doing things like this, Santana."

Her arms hesitantly find their around his neck, his arms tightening around her, "So I do have one question," His voice muffled by her hair, "How did you get Mercedes, Mike _and_ Brittany to cover for you in L.A without you telling them anything?"

A slight chuckle escapes her once they pull apart, her eyes filled with amusement, "They owed me some favours."

They're walking again and Kurt's right arm hooks with Santana's left, their silence comfortable, until Santana's ringer goes off and she is fumbling for her phone, "Hello? Shit. Yeah, no I'm on my way. Sorry."

"Work? I thought you were free today." Santana quickly checks her phone, groaning here and there as she ignores Kurt's questions, thumbs swiftly going through text messages on her cell phone.

It takes a couple seconds before she looks up, "Sorry, I forgot to leave the key and she-"

Santana stops and Kurt's eyes can't seem to get any bigger as he stares. Realization hitting him like a freight train, "She's staying with you?!" His voice is a harsh whisper, "Oh my god. Are you sleeping with each other? Santana!"

He looks around in amazement while he throws his arms in the air, scoffing at his own stupidity for no putting two and two together, "I can't believe that's what this is. You guys are sleeping together! This is why Rachel can't know! How long have you two been- you know what no. Santana, how could-"

Santana has half the mind to hit him with her tote but she doesn't let the thought materialize far enough. Her hands do however rise to stop Kurt in his rant, a headache slowly forming, "Kurt." He scoffs, "KURT!"

"I've kept that night at the wedding a secret for years, Santana! For years! If you think I will cover for you again-"

"KURT HUMMEL!" A number of people passing by flinch at the rise in her voice, some even stand and watch in interest. Santana pulls him along to keep them moving, her other hand ripping the sunglasses off, "Will you calm down?"

"Calm? I'm calm! I am more than calm!"

"Kurt, if you don't shut up-"

"Santana-"

"No." Her hand is up again and before Kurt can open his mouth, "I am not sleeping with Quinn." Her eyes glare at him, waiting for him to stand down from his outburst. When it seems that he is civil enough to talk to she continues, "The wedding was one time and that's it. If you bring that up again, I will take you to the park in the middle of the night, blind fold you, and leave you there tied to a tree."

The threat is a little excessive but it brings her point home when Kurt stance slackens and his breathing returns to a semi normal pace. Neither is sure where to begin, Kurt internally fuming at his assumptions while Santana prays that there is an easier way to deal with the entire situation.

Reaching a crosswalk, Kurt breaks their silence, "If you aren't sleeping with each other, then why is she hiding out in _your_ apartment. No offense Santana, but when it comes to hiding out, Rachel's and I's apartment is the go to."

"I don't know."

"What does that mean?"

Santana sighs walking ahead of him to cross the street, leaving him on the curb to stare at her retreating figure. It's only a couple steps that she turns around and shrugs her shoulders, "It means I don't know."

He tries to catch up to her but not before running into a few people in the crowd, "Santana!"A woman nearly beats him with a walking stick when he bumps her, "Sorry, excuse me." His eyes search the crowd and when he spots Santana on the other side of the street, clearly walking away without a thought to look back, he speeds up. The exasperated sigh that he lets out is nothing compared to his mood and patience.

The street they are on is quieter; Kurt notices a nearby street sign and calculates that they are only three blocks away from her apartment. Her heels click loud on the sidewalk, her pace not hard to catch up to but she's walking away with purpose.

They are side by side again and Kurt is trying hard not to just grab her arm to slow down, they cross a smaller street and Kurt's patience grows thin, "Santana, will you slow down and talk to me?"

When their eyes meet he regrets pushing the matter instantly. Her eyes are dark and there are no longer sunglasses to hide her emotions. Her heels stop and Kurt wonders just what exactly both girls are hiding from everyone.

"No, I can't. I can't slow down. You know why? Because Quinn is stuck outside of my apartment with groceries because I left the apartment in a rush to meet you for lunch to talk about my trip to L.A which you already knew I didn't go to and forgot to leave the spare for her. She's scared, alone, and outside. So no, I can't slow down and talk to you about this."

She doesn't hesitate to start moving again but Kurt prevents her with a firm grip on her shoulder. He's on dangerous grounds but his confusion is too far for him to just leave it, "What is it? What is it that is so bad that even you can't lie about it?"

Seconds go by and neither flinches at the wind that picks up around them or the people who casually walk by, the world is silent for those seconds. His grip eventually loosens when he can tell she won't bolt away from her but he keeps his eyes trained on her just in case. Her eyes narrow as if she is considering a thought but she says nothing.

"Before, I figured it was just her needing a break from school. Now, it seems like it's more than just a break from school if she is staying with you. We all know Quinn likes her hotels but her staying with you makes it more than just a little visit." His tone is even and non-threatening, he's stating what he knows and Santana doesn't stop him, "If you aren't sleeping with each other or hiding some relationship than this is something her close friends should know about."

A flash of hurt and Kurt's face falls at the use of his words of indirectly calling Santana just friend and nothing more compared to himself and Rachel. He shakes his head and both hands come to her shoulders, in a way to pin her to the spot because he knows she won't listen otherwise. Her fight or flight instincts usually kick in when there are low blows.

"Santana, I didn't mean-"

"No, it's fine. I get it. It's hard to imagine anyone coming to me for any sort of help other than a warm body." She tries to shrug his hands off but he refuses to let go.

"That's not what-"

"Kurt, you're asking for something that I can't give you."

"If she's in trouble, Santana, we need to know."

Watching her jaw clench, Kurt unconsciously loosens his grip. The only time he sees this happen is before Santana throws a pillow at Rachel or breaks a beer bottle. As close as they are he isn't up for a black-eye, which he is sure will happen if he keeps pushing.

"I don't know." The words are definite and it leaves no room for Kurt to ask anymore. God knows what will happen if he asks another why or what. He's run out of things to ask when he knows it's not the end but he can't leave this. Not when it includes his friends, this isn't a matter to ignore.

"What are you hiding?"

"I DON'T KNOW, KURT!" Her voice booms on the quiet street, dogs bark in response and a car horn blares in the distance. He's gone too far, he knows it by the way she is pushing him off, or how her eyes flare when he tries to steady her again, "I don't know because she won't tell me anything. And if you think you and Rachel are so much more fitted for this then why _didn't_ she go to you first? If you think you are so god damn deserving then why is it I get the call in the middle of the night to pick her up? To be honest, it doesn't like you two are as worthy as you feel."

She leaves Kurt stunned on the sidewalk as she walks away from him. Heels click with each step, fading as soon as she crosses another street, gone when she turns the last corner to her apartment building. Kurt does nothing for several minutes, his mind going over her words with a fine comb. His phone beeps and he feels a sudden guilt wash over him, Rachel's name flashing with an incoming text message.

He ignores it and goes to his contact list and types a message. It's quick and short but any more words and he knows it will be cast aside.

_I won't tell her._


	3. Neck and Neck

"So Kurt knows?" Quinn turns the kitchen faucet off, her hands placing a plate into a dishwasher. The clashing of silverware being moved makes it hard for Santana to respond but she waits by the counter, eyes watching the other kitchen's occupant, gauging for any reaction.

"He saw us at LeVain's last week." Santana shifts in her bar stool and fiddles with the rim of a forgotten mug. But just as soon as she starts, the mug is taken away from her and placed in the dishwasher, "He won't tell Rachel…"

A small laugh escapes Quinn and Santana isn't sure if she should take it lightly. Neither has really talked about the situation. Both have just accepted it for the most part. Anything resembling an explanation usually ends with Quinn either avoiding the big picture or stop talking all together. Santana never pushes her, if it were anyone else maybe but she has known Quinn long enough not to pry into her personal life.

"I honestly don't care if people know I'm in New York." Quinn finishes loading the trays and closes the dishwasher door. Fingers expertly press the buttons until the sound of water whirling within the washer fills the kitchen. Santana watches Quinn carefully maneuver around the counter and set herself across Santana. The actions remind Santana of memory long ago but she shakes her head lightly at the memory.

"No, you care that people know who you're staying with." Quinn uncrosses her arms alarmingly fast, her head shaking trying to deny the accusation as fast as she can. Santana stops her with a hand, "No, it's fine Q. I'm not offended or anything. I get it. You don't have to tip toe around me thinking you're going to hurt my feelings or anything. I'd like to think we have both grown enough to be able to handle adult situations."

There is no sarcasm or spite in her words but she can't help but feel it may have come out that way.

Quinn opens her mouth and then quickly closes it. Her eyes darting away from Santana as her words fail to make their presence. Her legs seem to carry her away from the counter but only ends up pacing the length of the kitchen. Hands nervously twist against each other as her mind tries to make sense of her silence. They never talk about her the phone call or the quiet drive from New Haven to New York. If they do, the conversation doesn't ever leave the ground.

"Hey, space cadet. Stop pacing, you're going to make me hurl." Quinn stops and gives an apologetic look towards Santana, "Look, I get that whatever it is that's wrong, you don't want to talk about it. I'm not going to push you."

Quinn bites her bottom lip before finally taking a seat and settling across from Santana again, "I don't care if they know where I am. And I know it's frustrating that I didn't tell you anything to begin with but I just…I needed an escape. I figured you of all people would understand where I was coming from."

Santana nods quietly, slowly taking in Quinn's words. She figures if she says anything or interrupts that it will be the end of their conversation so she silently urges Quinn to continue. She understands the need to leave a place that's suffocating. A place that can hold a person back from what they really want. Santana out of all people understands but it doesn't make it any easier for her to understand why Quinn would need an escape from a place she often praised and considered her second home.

There is a deep breath and Santana can feel the beginnings of a story, a story she isn't sure she is ready to hear. She has half the mind to stop Quinn to tell her 'it's okay'. To tell her that they can go back to being silent about the reason of her leaving, that there's no reason to explain. But a part of Santana wants to be able to understand what force can be so strong to back even the mighty Quinn Fabray into a corner.

Quinn can only hold her stare with Santana for a second before turning away in what Santana can see as embarrassment. The glisten within her eyes is hard to miss, "Somebody found out…" It's in the way Quinn can barely utter those words that Santana has to lean in, a reassuring hand reaching out, "I ended it so long ago and I honestly thought I had put it behind me. It was my last year, I already had so much to worry about before that the email came out. I didn't know what to do."

The way Quinn's words shake and falter are enough for Santana to stand. There are only a handful of subjects that Santana knows not to touch upon when it comes to Quinn. No one is to talk about the 'b' word in any form and if they do, they are to leave the room immediately. Santana can't count how many times she has had to bite back her words for her own rule. Another would be the mentioning of her short-lived fling with her disgusting excuse of a professor. This, believe it or not has gotten everyone into more arguments than Rachel Berry nabbing solos back in high school. By the looks of Quinn's avoidance in eyes and touch, Santana can only take a guess as to which one is the nail.

"That sick son of-"

Quinn cast her eyes down and shakes her head in shame as if she is the one to blame, which Santana understands it's only habit for Quinn to do so but she can't stomach the idea of Quinn taking the fall for whatever sick and twisted situation she is in. Contrary to popular believe, Santana actually thinks rather highly of Quinn. More so than she does her other friends, and many would love to challenge that it's a different blonde that holds a higher standing in Santana's life. In ways Brittany does have an importance…a presence in Santana's mind that will never waver nor fade. Love and adoration go high and above that of just friends with Brittany. But Santana isn't one to forget friendships, especially ones that started on playgrounds with dreams of becoming cowboy cheerleaders. It's difficult to forget Quinn Fabray.

"He didn't do anything, Santana." There is a slight furrow in her brow as she states this, "At least I don't think he did. It was a stupid and you were right back then. I just acted too late." A shaky hand rakes through blonde locks. Quinn always was the one to bottle her emotions up until she finally exploded. To her credit, she has gotten better but Santana can see the struggle with this particular conversation. The humiliation all over Quinn's face as she tries to face the fact that she indeed had an affair with a man that did nothing but take her youth from her, "God, I'm an idiot."

"You left because of him?" It's the only question that comes to mind but Santana isn't sure if it's the right one to ask.

A sigh and Quinn finally looks up to meet Santana's eyes, "He never left his wife." A pause and Quinn takes another breath, "Not that it would have mattered back then. I already had the mind to end it as soon as I got back to school my freshman year and I did. What I didn't know was how his wife was all knowing," Her eyes leave Santana again and it takes her a minute to finally look back. Just the mentioning of her shameful acts seems to have an impact, "Well, she found out and I guess she couldn't stay quiet about it any longer. Not that I blame her. It wasn't like he was keeping it a secret that he was cheating on her."

Santana frowns but Quinn shakes any assumptions that come to mind, "I wasn't the only one…but karma follows me everywhere and there was the email sitting in my inbox."

"She sent you an email? Did she threaten you?" Santana's protective nature rarely comes out when it doesn't involve Brittany but things change. Especially since her move to New York and her weekly trips up to New Haven with the glitter twins, it's safe to say Quinn has climbed the ranks in Santana's list of people she willing sticks her neck out for. Kurt mentions it from time to time but never questions as to why Santana seems to freeze anytime the four of them are out and Quinn gets hit on. Not to say that Santana has ever stopped anyone from dating Quinn, but she has had her fair share of talks with the blondes significant others in the past couple years.

"The first email was from her. The second and the third and the many others were from classmates during my freshmen year and even some in my English program. It was easy to delete two or three but when they just kept coming with words that just weren't any better than the last. I just," It's the way Quinn's hair fall over her face as she tries to hides her eyes, or the way her arms instinctively warp around her midriff because she doesn't know where else to put them. Santana is up and already in front of her, arms embracing hoping to comfort.

The hug is awkward at first, only due to the fact that Santana is not one to show any kind of emotion to others but Quinn loosens in the girl's embrace nonetheless. Her body leaning into Santana's while her arms slowly make their way around the smaller girl. Both staying quiet, unsure of what to say next but Santana concludes that this is the last time they'll ever talk about Quinn's reason of moving.

Seconds pass by that feel like hours, neither saying anything as the time passes. A comfortable silence settles between them and Quinn is reminded yet again that Santana has changed.

A phone begins to ring. Santana hesitates and contemplates letting the device ring in favour of Quinn's attention but Quinn is already picking up the phone on the counter and handing it to her before she can protest, "It's Kurt."

Santana frowns, her eyes glancing at the clock on the kitchen wall, it's late and Kurt would only call for an emergency or drunk, "Glitter box, if I was sleeping or having-"

"_Code red! She knows! I'm on my way now. I don't think I'll beat her to-"_

A doorbell and Quinn can only laugh at the sudden turn of events. Knocking soon comes after and Santana groans into her phone, "There is only one way she could have found out and that's if you told her! Hummel, do you not know the importance of the words _don't say anything to Rachel_? Or are those words not in your vocabulary?!"

The knocking gets increasingly louder and Quinn can't stop herself from laughing.

"_You can't hide in there! I will start singing, Santana! I know you're housing Quinn-"_

Before Rachel can finish her sentence, Quinn already has the door open, "Hello, Rachel."

A squeal and blur of red and yellow embrace Quinn's pajama clad body. Santana rolls her eyes and pulls her phone away from her ear bringing it closer to her mouth, "You're a dead fairy when you get here, Kurt Hummel." Santana cuts the line and walks over to Rachel's squealing form; her narrowing at Rachel's failing arms and overly high pitched voice.

"Why didn't you tell anyone that you were in town? You know you're more than welcome at our apartment. You don't have to stay _here._" There is a quick glance Santana's way and Rachel quickly tries to cover her statement.

"I mean-"

"No, Berry. Please continue and explain why it is that my place isn't good enough for Quinn." Santana crosses her arms and waits; although the thought also occurred to her when Quinn had called that night. She had definitely thought Rachel and Kurt were more qualified for the rescue mission but didn't question anything when Quinn packed her car with boxes the moment she arrived on campus. Now that Quinn has actually lived with her for a few weeks, she has grown into the idea that this was the best solution.

"I'm just merely stating that Quinn and I are in fact closer and it would be more comfortable with her staying with us. With you being," Rachel pauses and nervously contemplates whether or not to continue.

Santana narrows her eyes, "Spit it out, Berry."

"With you and your _active_ social life, it's only fitting that Quinn stay with us." Rachel looks between Santana and Quinn hoping her reasoning comes through.

There is a thundering sound coming from the hallway and the door swings open again, almost knocking Rachel into a nearby wall but much to Santana's dismay, it doesn't. Kurt looks at everyone with wide eyes, his attire suggesting he had just gotten off work, "What did I miss?!"

"Berry is trying to hide the fact that she'd much rather see Quinn walking around scantily clad rather than you." Rachel drops her mouth open in shock but Kurt waves it off and looks at Quinn with apologetic eyes.

"I do not-"

Santana walks over to the door and closes it with a sigh, "Save it, Berry. Your gay is showing."

Rachel chooses to ignore the comment and turns her attention back to Quinn who surprisingly stays quiet, "Are you okay? Did something happen? Quinn, you don't have to stay if Santana is keeping you hostage here."

A glare from Santana and Quinn shakes her head to dispel the assumption that Santana is keeping her hostage.

Kurt steps in and grabs Rachel by the arm to pull her back a little bit, "Okay, Rachel enough. If you keep interrogating her, she won't be able to tell you anything. Give the girl some space." Quinn gives a thankful smile and Kurt only nods.

"As much as I appreciate the gesture and invitation, I'm actually comfortable here." Rachel looks as if Barbara Streisand has been robbed of a Grammy and even Kurt raises his eyebrows in surprise.

"I am." Quinn assures the questioning looks, "Santana has more than enough room here. Besides it's closer to classes-"

"You're-You're moving here? As in…for good? When did you withdraw? I thought you were only visiting." Rachel can hardly contain her disbelief and neither can Kurt who loosens his grip on Rachel's arm, "Quinn, you only have a year left! This is insane! Have you even thought this through?"

There is a slight chip in Quinn's demeanor and Santana knows this conversation isn't going to end well if she lets Rachel continue with her rant of what's right and what's wrong. Quinn can only tolerate so much and even now the armor that the blonde puts up is starting to whither with Rachel's insistent tirade of Quinn throwing away her career.

"Seriously Berry?" Rachel seems to ignore Santana and continues with her barrage, "RACHEL!"

Santana snaps, eyes red, and body stepping in between Quinn and Rachel. It's not enough when Rachel stands straighter and matches Santana's eyes.

"Just because you can't handle adult conversations Santana doesn't mean Quinn-"

Kurt's shock allows Rachel to lean closer before he can catch his roommate and stop the fight he is too late. It's futile to try and stop the argument, now. All of a sudden he is reminded of high school and glee club Diva sing offs, "Stop talking for her like you know her so damn well!"

"Like you know her any better! Treating her like a friend now doesn't take away from the fact that you treated her horribly before, Santana! We are more Quinn's friends than you are!"

Kurt mouth falls when Santana doesn't take the bait. He holds his breath for an oncoming slap but it doesn't come. Instead Santana narrows her eyes and walks away, muttering over her shoulder, "Lock the door on your way out."

Quinn doesn't hesitate to follow Santana and to Rachel's surprise Kurt pulls away, "As much as it surprises me that Quinn picked Santana instead of us, there is always good reason and I don't think it's fair that you jump to conclusions about Santana's motives when we both know she is just helping a friend."

Rachel begins to protest but Kurt holds a finger up to silence her, "We have to respect both of their boundaries, Rachel. You can't barge into people's apartment and tear them down for something you don't understand."

"Santana does it all the time."

"Yes and as much as I hate to admit it, she has a point most of the time to do it. This is Quinn, Rachel. There has to be a good reason why she didn't tell us. A part of me thinks that she hasn't told a lot of people if not any." Quinn is already walking back towards the two and Kurt gives a fleeting smile towards Rachel before turning his attention to Quinn but she stops him from commenting with a hand already up.

"Is there any way we can continue this tomorrow? I know it needs to be talked about now but it's been a long day. Santana is only doing what I asked her to do by not telling anyone."

Rachel softens at Quinn's plea and instantly takes her hands to give them a comforting squeeze, "I just wish you would have come to us first."

Quinn gives a tight smile and Kurt sighs in relief that Quinn doesn't try and correct her actions. He may not understand exactly why Quinn would choose Santana over Rachel and himself but he has an idea that this dates back before all of them were really considered friends. There are only a few people Santana would ever choose above herself and it's proving so that lately Quinn is one of them. And apparently it's a mutual feeling.

Kurt gently pulls on Rachel's shoulder and gestures to leave. He smiles again at Quinn hoping to convey a silent apology for the mess between the two girls. She only nods and politely opens the door. All three stand still unsure how to end the night until Kurt lightly nudges Rachel into apologizing but it's barely heard. It's enough however because Quinn actually smiles.

Once the door closes and Quinn hears the floors creak at Santana's weight walking around in the kitchen. Her steps are hesitant to join Santana but she does eventually, stopping at the counter to lean against it.

"She's wrong, you know." Quinn's voice is quiet as if it's a secret but Santana stills to look at her, "I know I could have called either of them but I needed you." Santana looks to her feet in silence as Quinn musters up the courage to actually explain herself. Even though she knows she doesn't have to.

"You've kept my secrets for as long as I can remember." She chuckles lightly but composes herself quickly, "At least the secrets that mattered."

Santana smiles with a faint laugh, her mind remembering certain moments where she wasn't exactly a person to be called a friend but her and Quinn's dynamic has always been different than hers and Brittany's.

"To be honest it wasn't a competition on who to call." There is an emotion behind Quinn's words that Santana can't pin point and all of a sudden the conversation is turning into serious grounds that Santana isn't sure she can handle without a drink. "As soon as all my boxes were packed, you were the first person that came to mind."

"Careful, Fabray. It kind of sounds like you're into me." A wink and the serious tension quickly dissipates, "Not that I blame you." Quinn finally laughs and throws a discarded dishtowel only for Santana to catch it with ease. Both eyes soften at each other, appreciative of the mutual understanding, "Stay as long as you need, Q."


	4. Musical Beds

Two weeks go by with no communication from either group. Rachel's attempts of reconciliation few but not enough for Santana to forgive so easily after the apartment invasion. Although, the biggest surprise is Quinn, who has only given Rachel and Kurt the pleasure of one lunch date. A lunch date that didn't consist of much explaining but more retelling of what Kurt already knew or had figured out. It left the two in shock at just how much she wasn't telling. Had their friendships really gotten to the point of tight lips and locked doors?

"You know something, Kurt!" Rachel's voice shrieks at ten in the evening, Kurt's head throbbing with a continuous headache that doesn't want to go away. How can it when Rachel Berry persistently shouts and shrieks of secrets and bad friendships? He doesn't blame Rachel for her worries and concerns but he isn't sure how many more nights of conspiracy theories he can take before he wants to move out. A pillow is thrown at his face, the softness of it doing nothing to lessen the hit.

"Are you listening?" He weighs his options with a no or a yes but neither would stop anything. If Rachel wants to talk theories, she talks theories regardless of anyone's interest towards the situation.

"Yes, Rachel. I am listening. I have been for the past two weeks. What do you want me to say?" His tone is exasperated not that it would give hint for Rachel to notice.

"That you know something. Quinn hasn't contacted us in two weeks. We still don't know what happened. I think you do."

A groan and Kurt is walking out of their living room, a seething Rachel at his heels. If her footsteps don't give it away, it's the heavy breathing behind him as he prepares a drink. Hopefully something strong can knock him out for the night.

"You know at first I felt bad that I let it slip that Quinn was in town now I regret it because this is what it makes you. Have you even slept? Or have you been lying awake by your phone waiting for some phone call that Quinn will tell you everything."

The noise that Rachel produces makes him cringe, his headache worsening by the second. Rachel's whines and complaints furthering his ambition to maybe lock himself in his room until she grows tired or better yet, lose her voice. It's surprising that she can go on and on for days and weeks and still be able to pull off a High-F in the shower.

"Rachel, she will call us. She will tell us when she is ready." He brings his glass to his lips but finds no comfort, the glass already empty. Maybe he will get drunk. Taking the bottle from the counter he walks away, towards his room, determined footsteps following close behind.

"Why did she pick Santana over us?" The question stops him from closing his door. His body turns slowly, glasses clinking with the neck of the wine bottle while his eyes cast to his side. It's minutes before he can come up with an answer, although he knows it won't be an answer to Rachel's standards.

"We aren't her only friends, Rachel. Let's just be happy that she chose someone close to us, instead of someone like Mike." His hand goes to his door but Rachel uses her body to block him from doing so, her eyes unwavering.

"We may not be her only friends but you and I both know we are much closer to her than Santana is." There is something in the statement that sits unwell with Kurt, his eyes showing it with a slight flinch. After his own thoughts on the situation, he honestly believes that Santana might be in fact closer than everyone believes. God only knows how many times the two ex-cheerios met up throughout the years. The days where Rachel's usual fits and arguments resembled that of a jealous girlfriend, to who, he didn't really know. All of them had grown so close that Rachel's desire to be friends with everyone could be mistaken as a pass to be more.

"Are you sure about that?" Her eyes narrow and widen at his theory. Jaw slack as realization hits and Kurt has no time to prepare for the onslaught that is Rachel Berry.

"They're together?" Bottle and glass are set down behind him before she can grab them, "That's what it is?"

Kurt wants to roll his eyes, he does but that would only fuel the fire, "No. I just mean that-"

"No." She has an index finger waving in his face as her eyes look around her like she's looking for puzzle pieces, "That's why she won't tell us anything. That's why it's Santana! Because-Because they are-"

Her breathing is irregular and he has to hold her in place by grabbing her wrist. His eyes trying to level with hers but she's too busy trying to get away, "Rachel." She takes several steps back bringing Kurt along with her, eyes looking everywhere but Kurt, "Rachel."

A thud and she hits the wall behind her, mouth slightly a jar in shock and Kurt wishes he could be a bad friend and just leave her but that wouldn't help. She might just do something drastic, like call or ask for a duet night.

"They aren't sleeping with each other." She wrenches her hand away in a manner that can be questionable as to why she is so angry, "Trust me, I know."

"Then why choose Santana?"

"You know, for someone who swears their affinity towards men, you do a bad job of proving it when Santana or Quinn are mentioned in a sentence." She rolls his eyes and he knows he's right. He never comments on the side glances or the stares but he knows they are there. He can't forget the night of their first Christmas together with Santana as a roommate and how Rachel couldn't stop commenting on the girl's various dress mishaps. He'll never tell Rachel the reason for Santana's move, he's afraid if he mentions Rachel's problem for bedroom privacy that it might set off a bomb he can't neutralize.

"Oh please, Kurt, my concern is towards Quinn's well being, it is _not_ some jealous girlfriend rant that you and Santana love to tease me about." He raises an eyebrow at her choice of words but let's go when she begins to pace in front of him, her bunny slippers scratching against their wooden floors. His headache is back and he reaches out to stop her.

"Why is it such a bad thing that she is staying with Santana? She's right, Santana does have more room in that apartment and it's just temporary anyway. Quinn might end up here when she has everything figured out." Rachel exhales noisily and stomps away back towards the living room. Kurt takes this as an opportunity to close his door but he can't when muffled footsteps come back towards him, "Oh my god, Rachel. Just let it go."

"What happened at the wedding?" Kurt has a hard time taking her seriously when her attire consists of an overly large onsie and bunny slippers but she is thrusting her own wine glass in front of him and he can't help but a little a chuckle out.

"Rachel, come on. It's old news."

"Then tell me what happened?" Kurt has no choice but to take the wine glass from her, his eyes rolling in submission.

"Why are you asking me what happened when you already know? What is it to you anyway, they're friends." He reaches behind him for the bottle of red wine.

The sound of the wine pouring into the apartment is the only thing Kurt focuses on. There is a deep feeling of dread when he passes the glass back to her; it's the hardness in her eyes as she watches him.

* * *

Loud knocking sounds fill a silent apartment. Car horns and Friday night party goers don't even drown out the sound of repetitive thuds against a wooden door. To anyone else the sound would be annoying, even frustrating since it won't stop but nothing moves in the darkness. No lights turn on; no creaks come from the floors, just silence.

A phone vibrates on a wooden table, the device trembling across the surface until it finally hits the floor with a loud thud than the one coming from the front door.

A groan reverberates in a darkened room, sounds of covers being drawn and soft curses finally join the air. The clock blinks a horrifying shade of red, midnight, "Jesus."

Feet pad the shadowy hallways, hands blindly searching for a light switch but find nothing. A table lurches forward, the legs screeching against the hardwood, "Damn it!" The thuds continue with no hint of stopping. A hallway light turns on suddenly, the scene dimly lit.

"I'm just going to let you know, that you would make a horrible burglar." Santana tiredly walks towards a still recovering Quinn. Both girls showing signs of heavy sleep with matching bed hair, "Why are you even awake?"

A hand finds stability on a nearby wall; Quinn massaging her reddening knee as her eyes blink at Santana's blurry figure, "Can't you hear the knocking?" Her voice is raspy and thick with sleep, her blonde hair disheveled.

"You got out of bed because someone was knocking? Are you high?" Santana leans against the opposite wall, "Were you going to answer the door in that?"

"What if it's an emergency?"

"The door would have been down by now." It's a lazy reply; Santana stifles a yawn while blinking her own eyes to focus.

"I'm opening the door before that happens." Quinn begins to limp towards the living room, Santana's eyes trying their best not to stray on her retreating roommate. It won't mark the first night Santana's eyes have wondered way below the hem of Quinn's shirt.

Maybe it's the exhaustion from working double shifts or overload of classwork that she put off until last night but she doesn't catch Quinn's quick turn or the quirk of an eyebrow.

"Really?" The question is enough to startle Santana to look up, eyes meeting hazel in the dimly lit hallway.

"It's midnight and you're about to open the front door in nothing but an oversized t-shirt."

"And you're leering." Quinn's hand hovers over the lock, her eyes never leaving Santana's.

"What if I am?" Somewhere in the next five seconds the lock is turned and the door opens, a voice breaking the two girls' staring contest.

"Christ, do you two sleep with ear plugs? I've been knocking for over-, " Kurt's voice reverberates throughout the apartment, the girls turning their attention from each other to Kurt's now questioning eyes, "What is this?" His hands vaguely outline each girl's attire.

Neither wearing pants or at least from what he can tell from Santana's attire of a white tank and boyshorts. Quinn's t-shirt has the decency to cover to at least mid thigh, he doesn't want question who the shirt belongs to even though he is certain he has seen it many times. He finishes his assessment of the scene in front of him and points at Santana.

Her eyes roll as she pushes off the wall to walk away before he can bombard her with questions, "This is what happens when you open the door half naked, Q."

"I'll have you know that I got kicked out of my apartment because of this little thing you two have going on!" Santana waves him off with a gesture he is all too familiar with, a bedroom door slamming to show him her interest in the conversation.

Quinn's sigh brings him to turn to her and she automatically puts her hands up in light defense. They stare at each other a beat before Kurt slowly raises an index to her, "What are you doing?" Before, he let the stares and glances go but seeing both of them in this state makes the headache that had gone away earlier come charging back, "Do you know how difficult it is to live with Rachel Berry? To live with her when she doesn't know things? When she assumes things? I know this isn't any of my business but when I get kicked out of my own apartment because Rachel Berry is having a fit over a secret about you, I'm going to make it my business!"

"And this is why I'm not there."

"Because you're sleeping with Santana?"

Quinn tilts her head and scrunches her face in slight disdain, "What? No. Because Rachel can be a little insane and I don't need that right now. Why does she think we're sleeping with each other?"

Kurt raises his eyebrows; despite regarding Quinn in high regards it doesn't stop him from wanting to slap her silly, "You're joking, right?"

"Kurt, what have you told her?"

"NOTHING! Because I don't know anything!" His voice is squeaky and high that it makes Quinn wince.

"Then why-"

"Oh I don't know? Maybe, because you refuse to speak to anyone or because the last time you ever chose Santana over anyone else, you slept with each other at a wedding with Rachel two doors away from you." His hands fly up and his neck lurches forwards at the blatancy of his statement.

Quinn groans and walks back towards the bedroom, "We'll talk about this in the morning."

Her feet drag further proving her exhaustion but it doesn't stop Kurt from gawking in shock as she by passes the living room couch for the hallway that leads to the only bedroom in the apartment, "Where are you going?" He crosses his arms.

"You're taking the couch." She turns while opening the door, "You know where everything is already."

The door shuts with a sounding click leaving Kurt to look at the untouched couch with thought. Before he knows it he is walking away towards the closed bedroom door, hand already turning the knob, not even bothering to knock. He does know where everything is but out all the times he has stayed in Santana's apartment, not once has he ever had to sleep on the couch.

His eyes scan the room, the window is open allowing a slight breeze to waft pass the curtains. Two lumps in the king size bed confirm his thoughts and he stops himself from growling in frustration at what these two do to his life. Crossing the room in four strides, he opens the nearby closet. He smiles when he notices a pile of neatly folded clothes tucked in the corner. It doesn't take him long to change but as soon as he's in matching pajamas, he makes a beeline towards the left side of the bed. A mop of blonde hair pokes out from under the covers, "Move."

* * *

It's bright; the sun is shining through an open window, a small breeze still drifting through the brightly lit room. Car horn blares but nothing stirs, three sleeping bodies unmoving in the king size bed. The only hints of last night's events are Kurt's clothes strewn over the chair near the window. Another horn blares for a little too long and Kurt stirs from his spot, eyes blinking rapidly at his surroundings. The breeze hits his body and even with flannel pajamas he shivers at the feeling. His hand blindly searches for the blanket he had frustratingly fought for last night but they find nothing around him. He turns ready to yank the cover from an unsuspecting Quinn but again finds nothing where not just a blanket should be but a body.

Jolting upright he leans to look, his eyes fighting not roll at the scene before him. The urge to take a pillow and swat the two is strong but Kurt finds it in him to push the urge away, to be civil towards the two girls that did take him in last night.

A car alarm goes off and Kurt jumps at the sound, living four years in Brooklyn still doesn't ease his nerves with the thousands of sounds that come from an open window. At least it's a car alarm and not a scream, then again the only reason he is slightly been calmer with screams is due to living with two girls.

His jump seems to have disrupted the serenity of the room because he begins to feel the bed move next to him. There is something in the way Quinn's body moves to stretch that has Kurt staring. And it's not in an intimate way, because Kurt has never seen a woman in that light in his entire life, but he can't deny that Quinn Fabray is by far one of the prettiest beings he has ever known.

It's her hair and how she has kept it at the mid length, instead of growing it back out, or how her face even without make up reminds Kurt that women don't need it. The natural feel of light dancing across her skin as his eyes follow the length of an arm, his eyes narrowing as soon as he hits the end of her finger tips; this is why he hates secrets.

There they both are sleeping like no one's around to see them. Both girls covering each other in a mess of limbs, his missing half of the cover tightly wrapped around them, "Hags." He whispers it under his breath, hoping not to wake either of them.

Not that it helps because Quinn is already turning with her eyes blinking, "You're still here?" Her voice is groggy and raspy, thicker than what he had remembered it to be last night.

"I got kicked out of my apartment, where else would I be?" She yawns in disinterest and turns away again, paying no mind to his presence as she curls further into the covers, into Santana's left side. He's seen it many times, of course it was always a different blonde but it's always going to be a different blonde if it isn't Brittany.

He stares at them for a moment longer until Santana finally begins to stir, face turning away from the light, "Morning creep." She says this with an arm over her eyes.

He stays quiet and waits for Santana to notice how close another body is but that moment doesn't come, instead Santana stays where she is. He wonders if it's the right time to ask a question but when is it ever when everything always gets pushed to another day.

"Rachel knows about the wedding night." The volume in the room vanishes, as if the mute button has been pressed. No car horns, alarms, or children yelling are heard in the next ten seconds.

It's Quinn who moves first, body turning until she is facing Kurt, her hazel eyes staring into his baby blues. She says nothing and he is grateful because he's unsure where that puts anything involving their friendship. Not that he was the one to tell Rachel anything, there is only so much a person can hide before someone finds out.

"She told me about that party, Santana."

Santana remains unmoving, arm stilling covering her face. Quinn begins to sit up, covers bunching up around her waist, her hands folding neatly in her lap, "Last summer at Pat's." The statement catches Kurt for a loop, his mouth opening slightly in surprise.

"You knew? How did you know? How - where are all these secrets coming from?!" His voice is getting squeaky and Santana finally removes her arm to look at him.

"It was a stupid kiss. Rachel and I were both wasted and it was –"

"The reason you moved out." Kurt deduces even though a part of him knows it isn't true.

Santana is nearly sitting up now, her elbows supporting her, "That's not true and you know it Kurt."

Kurt tilts his head with narrow eyes, "Really? Because I don't think I know anything anymore."

Santana throws the covers off her, hand reaching for a pair of unseen sweatpants on the floor, "You're pissed because I didn't tell you about a kiss or are you pissed because you heard it from Rachel?"

"No, I'm mad that none of you will come to me about these things until it's too late. Or how you always have me be the one to keep things from other people, especially Rachel."

She's tying the drawstrings, eyes not meeting his but he doesn't miss the look she gives Quinn, "I tell you most things Kurt."

"Only when I find out. We're all friends, why can't we confide in each other? I'm sure Quinn doesn't know about that night when you-"

Quinn opens her mouth to intervene but Santana beats her to it with hand in the air to stop her, "Trust me, Q knows more than any of you think."

Kurt is silent again, eyes looking around the room while the two girls continue to have a silent conversation between them. When he finally looks back he catches the end of a hand gesture and nod, "She's hurt. Rachel's hurt that the person she considers a friend won't come to her for help."

There's a sigh from Quinn and Santana shakes her head while she makes her way out of the bedroom, "I'll go make us some coffee."

It takes a few seconds before Quinn finally looks over at Kurt, sunlight hitting her features just right that it makes Kurt's anger vanish because who can stay angry at person this pretty in the morning. He's gay but he won't deny Quinn's natural beauty.

"Obviously you two are closer."

"Why is that such a surprise?" Her voice is quiet and her hands are playing with the fabric of the blanket.

"Because it's Santana."

"Because I'm not Brittany." He didn't want to agree but the truth is in the air. Seeing Santana be so willing and secretive for someone that isn't Brittany is startling but in a way he has always seen these two becoming closer, he just figured he would have caught on faster. Then again, he is dealing with two of the most frustrating female friends he has ever had the pleasure to know. Excluding Rachel but she has her own category.

"It's_ different_. You're different. Maybe, it's because of whatever is going on with you and the reason you left New Haven. I just don't," He takes a breath, hands motioning in the air, "What happened?" He feels bad for asking, because he knows it's not his place to ask and that he should wait but with the rate things are going he may never know.

The distant sounds of a coffee machine gurgling water comes from the open door, it tears both of them away from the conversation for only a moment. Kurt wondering if Santana will even bother to make him a cup and Quinn hoping she can deal with this conversation twice in one month.

"I didn't want to stay with you guys because I was always proving myself to everyone, my friends, my family...me." She inhales to gather courage not that it helps because her knee begins to shake, "Not that I'm saying it wouldn't be fun with you and Rachel but I needed to breathe. I needed someone who knew me. Not Yale Quinn or Quinn after high school." Kurt sits in thought, mind racing with all the people in Quinn's life.

"I needed," She pauses unsure how to explain her actions, her thoughts, eyes looking up as if the ceiling holds the answer.

"You needed someone who knew you when you didn't have all the dreams you have now." As Kurt says this, his eyes never leave the open door, "Someone who's been lost before." There is a slight clash and he is pretty sure Santana is beating the machine with the palm of her hand. She does that when things don't work her way. It's why they had to buy four new coffee machines in two months.

"Not that I don't trust you or Rachel but Santana's-"

"The closest you have to a childhood friend." He turns to look Quinn in the eyes, to confirm that the answer is the one many are looking for.

Quinn gives an apologetic smile, knowing that it's not the easiest thing to understand, but Kurt shakes his head. A knowing look on his features as he reaches for her hand to give it a light squeeze. These girls really are going to be the death of him but he wouldn't have it any other way. Probably because he wouldn't want to wish this upon any other poor unsuspecting soul.


	5. Air

It's safe to say that after being kicked out of his apartment, Kurt has found a temporary home in Santana's. Much to her displeasure of course, since he has practically made a drawer for his things in her bathroom. The never ending facial products and moisturizers have an ill effect on her, reminding her of Rachel's so called diva bathroom. It's not that he has completely moved in but, he figures it is a much better alternative than staying in his own apartment when Rachel brings her boyfriend over to 'go over notes'.

At least he knows that Santana and Quinn aren't going at it on every surface, it's a comforting thought that he won't walk in on anything when he comes by every so often. Though there has been an incident of him walking in and Quinn only in her undergarments. It not only surprised him but the neighbors when they both screamed and he ended up crashing into the nearest table next to the door. He has reverted to texting when he is on his way over.

_Rachel, is having another night in with the what's his face. I'm coming over._

He doesn't get a reply back but he knows he won't. It's Saturday and Santana has a penchant of sleeping in until four in the afternoon on a weekend. He thinks about texting Quinn but she is no better at replying these days either.

After a brutalizing question and answer night that had to be done at the loft. Rachel has become more understanding and accepting towards Quinn's recent life choices. Of course it doesn't stop Santana from jabbing every once in a while that Rachel did act like a jealous girlfriend but all know it's just Rachel's need to be there for her friends. Harmless, until on a drunken night Rachel brings how soft Santana's lips were at that summer party and Quinn can't help but hold her laughter in as Rachel tries for a round two to see if she remembers correctly.

_We bought you an air mattress._

Kurt stops in the middle of the sidewalk, take out in one hand while his messenger bag starts to fall from his shoulder. So he might have moved in slightly over the course of a week, and by move in he means he is currently sleeping in a king size bed with two girls. A king size bed that has more than enough room to hold three of them and probably Rachel, seeing as that two of its occupants refuse to acknowledge that they cuddle into one space.

_Take it or leave twinkle toes._

Of course they leave him no choice but to accept, it's either this or another night of hearing Rachel moan her way through her notes. He is glad that she is less stressed out since she has gotten some but he wishes he could at least stay in his own bed for a week without having to hear declarations to God and Jesus Christ every night.

But throughout all the moving around and playing musical apartments, Kurt still has doubts about Quinn's recovery from her situation. He understands the being bullied out of school portion, he moved to Dalton after the Dave situation but he still isn't quite convinced that Quinn's move to New York is solely based on a scornful wife. He doesn't voice is opinions however, not when he wakes up to these two idiots for a week snuggled up like a married couple on Sunday mornings. Santana waking up to make them coffee or leaving early to come back with breakfast, it's a change.

It makes him speculate just how much time the two ex-cheerleaders have actually spent together. Santana Lopez doesn't wake up early on Monday mornings to get anybody coffee. He notes to himself to ask on a later date because when he walks into her apartment and the two girls are looking at each other in confusion over how to blow up a mattress, and he wants to strangle them.

"Unless you two plan on having sex on a daily basis, I am not sleeping on that" He sets the take out down on the coffee table, which is riddling with tools that having nothing to do with an air mattress. Santana has the directions in her hand, twisting it every which way she can while Quinn has her fingers rubbing circles around her temples.

"I'm serious, Santana, I'm not sleeping on this. Not unless you give me a good reason as to why we can't share your king sized bed."

Santana gives up, crumpling the piece of paper and throws it over her shoulder, her hands on her hips, "I can't throw Quinn out and besides, you have your own bed. Invest in some ear plugs or something."

"If only those worked."

Quinn chuckles lightly before standing up and digging into the Chinese take-out, slapping Santana's grabby hands when they go for a spring roll, "Wash your hands."

"I might rethink this bed situation over." Santana mumbles as she walks towards the single bathroom.

"Heard that." Quinn's scowls as she cleans the coffee table off, Kurt noticing for once that she isn't in one of her dresses but in what looks like a pair of sweat pants. Probably not hers which is funny considering he remembers emptying four drawers to make room for five boxes of clothes, none of them resembling the pair of NYU sweats she has on now.

Kurt takes the moment to share a piece of information that Rachel has been pushing him to talk about since she found out everything, "So, Rachel and I were looking around and there is a nice little studio up for rent three blocks down from us. The rents decent and you'd have your own closet."

Quinn purses her lips before smiling at him, he already knows it's a no but it doesn't stop him from wanting to know the reason, if there is one, "I'll think about it."

"Or you could just live here." Kurt's inspecting what seems to be the pump but keeps quiet, gently pushing it aside with his foot. He catches Quinn's gaze and challenges it with one of his own, "Please, this is the fourth apartment we have tried to sell to you and you always say, you'll think about it. Either you're going to move in here and make it official that you two are disgustingly domestic." He points to Santana walking back into the room with paper plates in hand, "Or you move in with us. Because none of us trust you alone in an apartment in New York City, no one should trust any kid from Lima in New York City."

"Hey, I'm alone!" Santana protests as she hands over plastic utensils into Quinn's waiting hand.

"Barely, you spend just as much time on our couch as I do in your bed." He frowns at his words but he can't take them back, "That sounded better in my head."

"Again, I'll think about it Kurt. I haven't exactly..." She trails off, mumbling the rest under her breath.

"Withdrawn from school." Santana cuts in while stealing three spring rolls.

Kurt takes a pair unbroken of chopsticks, his eyes watching Quinn in interest, "I thought that was all taken care of? So you're saying there's a chance you'll go back?"

"I don't know. I mean, it's my last year."

Kurt nods with understanding, hands breaking apart his chopsticks, "Have you finally told everyone else?"

"If you're talking about my parents, no. If you're talking about everyone else friend wise," Quinn pauses, eyes fixing onto the plate in front of her, "No." And just like that Quinn is smaller than Kurt has ever seen her to be. It's been so long since Kurt has seen this side to any of the girls. Santana being the last one when she moved in all those years ago. Of course she barged in and spewed words of independence but that didn't stop them from hearing her cry at night. He knows the look of someone lost, after all, they've all looked at themselves in the mirror at one point of their lives to see it.

* * *

A body shifts, the bed dips and there's a pull at the covers. Sometime in the night, Kurt had sneaked back into the bedroom. Leaving the air mattress, that he ended up assembling, to rot in the living room. So when he opens his eyes again to look at the night stand, red numbers blinking back at him, he groans internally. Three in the morning, he gently pulls at the covers again but stops when he hears what he is sure is something he shouldn't.

He blinks, adjusting his eyes to the ungodly hour. His ears straining to hear the whispering next to him.

"Don't worry Q, we'll figure it out."

The sniffling and the silent sobs that move the bed ever so slightly are enough for Kurt to lay still. Not wanting to turn and see what he is sure is Quinn crying.

"Just let it out. Let it out."

More sobs, a little louder and Kurt turns against his better judgment. His eyes quickly connecting with Santana's as she soothingly rubs up and down Quinn's back. One arm tucked underneath blonde hair, securely holding Quinn in place as she shakes with cries she can't hide.

He says nothing, afraid to even reach for them. Their embrace too personal for him to intervene, to touch.

Another cry and Kurt can see the glistening of Santana's eyes, the beginnings of tears and he feels terrible for even being in the room, in the same bed. And for the first time, he wishes he had stayed in the living room.

They stay like that, molded together for what feels like hours, and it's then that Kurt understands the comfortable atmosphere between the two and how it's different from anything he has seen either show in public.

After the shakes have ended and he is sure Quinn is fast asleep, he reaches out to Santana. Hand on the now still arm draped around Quinn's back. She looks at him and he is struck with the feeling of a guard dog on watch, eyes taking in his movements as he shifts closer.

Cautiously, he wraps his arms around both of them and gives a comforting smile, knowing she won't sleep unless everything is calm around her. He remembers doing it for her when she used to live with them. He knows and he makes sure she understands when he squeezes them slightly. Once the sound of even breathing hit his ears, he lets a breath escape.

* * *

Morning hits and Kurt wakes up with a start, his body going rigid when he doesn't feel a body in his arms. His eyes open and they only settle on Santana's sleeping form. No blonde in sight. He looks around, eyes still heavy with sleep. The door is open, the soft sounds feet padding around in the kitchen ease his mind.

Careful not to wake up the bed's other occupant, he slowly makes his way out of the covers and out the door. Feet reacting to the cold floor. When he meets a small form hunched over the kitchen counter, he lets out a sigh of relief.

"Sorry if I woke you up." Barely able to her, Kurt takes a step closer, stopping to take a seat at a stool.

"You didn't."

"I meant," She's referring to last night but Kurt waves her off and smiles.

She bows her head gratefully before taking a sip from the mug in her hands. All is gone to Kurt as his eyes hit the caffeine, "Dear god, please tell me there is more of that." He exaggerates as he reaches out. Garnering a laugh he instantly feels better but his thoughts don't wander from the night's events. A sinking feeling that there's more to come as she quiets down.

"Cucumber."

"Sorry?"

He takes a sip before pointing vaguely at her eyes, "You'll need some cucumber for those. Helps with the redness."

"Oh." She looks away briefly but gives a small smile in thanks.

They stay in silence, drinking their coffee, listening to the morning runs of a Sunday. Of course it isn't a morning until a car alarm goes off and there's a thud from the bedroom causing both two jump. More from the thud than the car alarm.

"She's awake." Quinn immediately gets to work on a third cup but Kurt's laugh causes her to pause.

"No, she's not. That's probably the phone or the alarm clock or maybe even a pillow. She probably threw one of those somewhere."

"She's usually awake by now."

"Only if you're still in bed."

A chuckle escapes her, hand going through her bed ridden hair, "God, we really do sound domestic."

"You're comfortable, it happens."

"Was it the same with you and Rachel?"

He scoffs, setting his cup aside, "I love the girl but when we first started living together, I can't count how many times I thought about strangling her."

Her lips curl as she fights not to smile, "That's awful."

"Not really, I'm sure the feeling was mutual."

"What about Santana?"

His eyes narrow as he tries to remember the different memories scattered in his brain, smiling at some and grimacing at others. Thinking back to the days where none of them really knew where they were going. In a way it's heartwarming to think they have grown a little.

"Nothing like she is now, but she had her moments. I miss her around the apartment." He leans forward on his elbows, "Don't tell her I said that."

"Why'd she move out?"

He sits up, eyes cast down on the kitchen counter, "A fall out between her and Rachel. Something about bringing people home and not informing roommates. And noise complaints."

She pours another cup, "Sounds like Santana."

Kurt laughs again, not bothering to be quiet, his laugh unabashed with his head slightly thrown back, "Oh no sweetheart, it wasn't Santana making the noises. It was Rachel."

There is a look of disbelief and then realization before Quinn joins him in laughing, "Wow. Really?"

"Yeah, it was around the time Santana was doing her paperwork to go back to school. Interviews. You know how serious she gets with school."

She hums in agreement, "I do."

Silence settles between them again and Kurt looks back at the closed bedroom door. He begins to weigh his options on whether or not to talk about anything without a guard dog around. Not that he doesn't love Santana for what she is doing but hearing her speak for Quinn can only fend off so many people.

"I hope you know Yale doesn't define you."

Quinn turns away towards the sink, "It seems to be the only thing I'm known for."

"That's not true. You wouldn't have friends like us if it was."

"You know the first thing everyone asks me when they hear from me? It's not how I'm doing, or who I'm dating." She turns around again, hands gripping the edges of the sink behind her, "It's 'How is Yale?' ." Kurt doesn't say anything in response, knowing he himself has used the same line numerous times to start a conversation. Telling her the school she goes to doesn't define her yet being one of the many that ask how they school itself is, is rather contradicting.

"It doesn't define you Quinn. Your professor doesn't define you. Your mistakes don't define you. You're more than just some pretty face and you know it."

Her eyes cast down and it's the beginning of tears that he knows he won't be able to stop, "I have no idea where I'm going anymore. I let this entire thing eat me alive and the only thing in my mind was to run."

"You don't have to go back to prove anything."

"Don't I? It's my future on the line isn't it?"

A door opens and both flick their eyes towards the hallway. Santana's figure slowly emerging, hair disheveled, eyes barely open, body solely running on the need for caffeine.


	6. two or four or five

After witnessing what Kurt describes to be one the most personal moments he has ever seen Quinn in, he makes it a point to sleep out in the living room. He does occasionally catch himself halfway towards the bedroom before he sadly makes his way back to the most uncomfortable air mattress known to man.

It's like that for a few days. The bedroom door closed and the first time it opens again is when Quinn walks out. At first it surprised Kurt, who nearly had a heart attack when Quinn stood over him the first morning and asked if he needed coffee.

By the third morning, he's up before either of them and making coffee. Which generally starts the morning off with Santana asking why he's still there. He never has an answer and he doesn't think he will any time soon.

It's not like it's a bad arrangement. They aren't having sex anywhere and it's the best sleep he's gotten in a while.

Although, he could have done without the bruises to his legs because one of them kicks like a mule and it's just so damn hard to figure out who when they morph into one person at night. Another reason why he doesn't exactly mind the move to the living room.

So at ten in the evening on a Wednesday night, Kurt wishes he had better will power to say no to Rachel's consistent texts to lure the two girls over for dinner. He doesn't get her to stop until he promises he'll try his best which Rachel takes as a promise for dinner all together.

Which he should have seen coming but it's hard when she threatens to use his bed sheets for not so appropriate things and he does miss his bed. It's just hard to pitch a dinner to the most indecisive people he has ever met.

On one hand he has Santana who would rather drink herself to a stupor than leave to go see Rachel and on the other is Quinn. Who people may associate to being rather complying and nice to agree to a harmless dinner but they don't sleep in the same bed. The blonde might seem kind and generous but deep down she is the worst at deciding what to do.

Both of them together and Kurt would be screwed if there was an apocalypse. They would probably argue over who was more fitted to die first. Which would lead Kurt to probably shoot _himself _and leave the two to their own devices.

They're all going to hell, why not make it easier and beat them to it?

"I may or may not have promised Rachel that we would have dinner with her."

* * *

Generally, when one promises something to another person they should morally keep that promise.

Santana thinks differently when Kurt proposes the dinner. Kurt's driving point being that Rachel feels alone. A point Santana states is more Kurt's fault than it is hers. He tells her it's different but she only shakes her head as she continues with a paper.

She's been a little behind since the change in roommates. Not that she isn't grateful for Quinn's company. It's better when there is someone to talk to other than herself. It makes her feel less crazy when she asks questions out loud. Quinn actually gives answers or coffee. Both are very acceptable.

But as Kurt plans out a dinner than no one other than himself signs on to, she puts her pen down and sighs, "You do know that in order to do this, we have to agree."

Kurt turns around eyes narrowing and then glancing over to Quinn, who has taken a spot on the other end of the couch. Her fingers angrily typing away on the keyboard, she doesn't bother looking up to acknowledge the conversation.

Santana nudges her with an extended foot and Kurt watches as the two continue a slight game of footsies before Quinn gives up and looks away from the screen.

"Disgusting." He says under his breath.

There are times he wishes Rachel would just text him the next time she had someone home because it would save him the trouble of finding out by hearing her _and_ it would save him from having to deal with the two hags in front of him.

"Why are you planning a dinner?'

"Because Rachel feels as if she hasn't seen you two in forever and it's true. She thinks I'm stealing both of you from her."A chuckle comes from one of the girls and Kurt throws his hands in the air, "If it's because I'm choosing your apartment, just have dinner at ours."

Quinn is already back to typing and Santana just stares off into space, text books forgotten.

She does feel bad that Rachel hasn't exactly been around. Again, not her fault but Kurt will never own up to being in the wrong.

"Pizza."

Kurt looks at her appallingly, his hand fanning against his chest, "Why on earth would you suggest pizza?"

"Because it's already made. She doesn't have to come earlier to help cook or stay longer than she needs to." Quinn closes her laptop and smiles.

"_And_," Santana begins to interject with a foot kicking Quinn's shin, "This one's been craving. I was thinking Roberta's?"

"A little fancy but okay, not exactly the common slice but I can see the appeal for dinner. Surprising choice coming from you, Santana."

"What can I say? I'm full of surprises." Her voice turning dry as she gets up, hand already grabbing for Quinn's and pulling, "God, you're heavy."

"Ass."

Kurt claps his hands a little enthusiastically at the prospects of actually getting the two girls out, it's not every day that they agree to a suggestion he makes. Or anything for that matter.

"Great! So I'll see both of you at seven?"

Both of them are already walking down the hallway, laptop chords dragging against the floor, hands dismissing him like some peasant.

"Why do I always feel like I'm some court jester spewing out rainbows for queen bitch one and two?"

* * *

It's 7:15 and Rachel is two glasses down for wine. A feat Kurt didn't bother stopping knowing she is a little more tolerable with alcohol in her. Lovely girl, but if he wants Santana and Quinn to stay, he needs to make sure Rachel is somewhat sociable for the night.

The loft door slides open and he momentarily forgets that Santana still has keys. He makes a mental note to ask her to return them but he nearly drops the glasses when he sees the bottle of Tequila in Santana's hand.

"No." He shakes his head and free hand at the offending bottle, "Nope. She already has two glasses in her. You put that in her and I won't be responsible for her doing anything out of the ordinary."

"Relax, princess. It's just a gift."

Rachel gladly takes it from her and Kurt has to set the glasses in his hands down before nearly tackling Rachel for trying to open it. They fight over the bottle for the rest of the night until Kurt finally hides it after Rachel excuses herself to the bathroom. He doesn't find the best spot at first but Santana mentions the vase in the living room and he's sold. Rachel forgets about it completely and instead talks about her boyfriend.

A cue that has Santana wanting to leave but Quinn's looks make her stay, she has class in the morning and all she wants to do is sleep. But there is a hand on her ankle from their spot on the floor and she has to stay. Their eyes lock for a second and Quinn motions with her head to Rachel who seems really happy with the company around her. Santana fights to roll her eyes but leans back against the couch behind her.

_You owe me._ She mouths the words slowly, her hand reaching behind her for a pillow. She already knows that they'll be here a lot longer than she had planned but she doesn't find herself as upset as she thought she would be.

Surprisingly, Rachel offers for them to leave shortly after, she explains she remembers Santana's schedule and no one can hide their shock.

"Please, you act like we aren't friends. I do thank you for coming over tonight. It is nice to see you around in the apartment again." Rachel is finishing her fifth glass of wine and Santana isn't quiet certain if it's the alcohol or if Rachel is actually genuine.

"It's not like I can say 'no' when lady lips threatens to take over my apartment." Santana stretches her legs, body not exactly taking a liking to her position on the floor, "By the way, can you please take your roommate back? He's cramping my style."

Kurt drops his jaw and throws a pillow at her direction, he misses of course but it doesn't stop Santana from throwing it back at him. She doesn't miss and Rachel is thankful there is nothing around either of them that might need to be cleaned up.

After Quinn grabs a different pillow from Santana's grasp, Rachel is reminded of the times all three of them used to sit on the floor in the living room. Watching as the two other girls bicker over whether or not Kurt deserves to be hit and she doesn't know what makes her say it but before she can think it over, she's sitting up.

"Why didn't you guys ever date?"

Kurt chokes on a the bite pizza in his mouth as his hands search for something to help the clog. Santana loosens her grip and Quinn retracts her hands immediately.

"Not high school but I mean after," Rachel tilts her head from to side, words not really formulating over what she wants them to, "After, the wedding."

Silence covers the living room, no one having answers to Rachel's inquires. Kurt just as shocked as Santana at Rachel's boldness but it was inevitable seeing as how they kept everything away from her.

"Well," Santana starts not really sure where to begin, "We aren't exactly," She looks over at Quinn for help but the blonde just shrugs eyes looking between everything, "Uhm...dating material to each other."

Santana pulls a face and Kurt shakes his head at her attempt at explaining.

"Did you guys ever think about it?" The glint in Rachel's eyes throws Santana off as to where the conversation is leading. She looks back to Quinn again for help but the blonde only meets her eyes for a second before looking away, "So you have?"

Quinn looks up toward the ceiling before taking a deep breath, "Isn't there something else other than this to talk about?"

Santana continues to stare and it's the first time Kurt has seen both of them out of sync with each other, he has half the thought to hug Rachel but he thinks better of it and decides to just watch the story unfold in front of him.

"It just the last time I saw Santana this close to anybody..." Rachel trails off forgetting the boundaries she is suddenly crossing.

"Was Brittany?" Quinn finishes the sentence off while shaking her head, "You guys do know that it was the _three_ of us, right? That it wasn't _just_ Santana and Brittany."

Kurt bites his cheek at the turn in conversation, "I think Rachel is talking about a different closeness."

Santana is already standing up and Kurt can't stop her when she goes to the towards the vase, arm reaching in and pulling out the bottle of Tequila. She returns to the group and looks at everyone sternly, "If you want to have this kind of conversation, then the bottle better be empty by morning."

Rachel doesn't hesitate to reach her arm out, Santana cautiously handing her the bottle. Rachel surprises everyone by opening it and taking a swig. The back of her hand coming to her lips to wipe, "What's the real reason for you not dating each other?"

Kurt leans back slightly at the seriousness of the game, the actions of his roommates is almost too out of place.

Santana reaches for the bottle this time and her face twitching at the smell of Tequila hitting her nose. She takes a drink, eyes never leaving Rachel's, "Because we're friends."

Rachel leans forward to interject but Santana is thrusting the bottle towards her and the rules are set. Kurt gulps at the risks and wonders if he should intervene, because drunk Rachel he can handle but drunk Rachel _and_ drunk Santana, isn't something he can do anymore.

Rachel sets the bottle down and her eyes are watering, "You and Brittany were friends. What makes Quinn so different?"

"Why are you so intere-"

"Ah," Rachel points to the bottle and Santana curses at her own game, "Rules."

Kurt frowns, "When were the rules even said?"

"You're going to have to drink in order to a get a question."

"Crazy. Both of you are crazy."

Before he knows it Quinn is taking the bottle from Santana's lips and taking it to her own. Kurt blinks at the action. His eyes wide and wondering if the blonde will participate. He silently hopes not because he can't take all three of them drunk.

"Have you ever thought of it, Rachel? And don't play dumb." Quinn's voice is a littler lower than Kurt is used to and he feels like gagging at how Rachel bites her lip.

Hazel pierce into brown, making Kurt uneasy at the possible answers, "Once or twice." Rachel quickly motions for the bottle with her fingers.

Santana's eyebrows raise high, head nodding in appreciation at Rachel's honesty. She already knew the answer but it doesn't change that it's funny to hear out loud.

As Rachel downs an amount everyone is pretty sure isn't equivalent to shot, Santana twists her body towards Quinn, "What are you doing?"

"Getting drunk." Quinn sits upright when Rachel hands her back the bottle, it's no where near half anymore and Kurt's concern grows with how none are questioning the strangeness of the situation. Even he can't wrap his thoughts around their 'game'.

"How many times have you two had sex?" Rachel's next question has him mouthing a silent 'o' at her straight forwardness. If this keeps up he just might join for a drink rather than a question.

"Five."

"Three."

Rachel raises her eyebrows at both, "Oh?"

Santana shakes her head, "Three."

"It's been five."

Santana scrunches up her nose and begins to count on her fingers. She knows she isn't missing a moment so she turns to Quinn again, "Are you counting-"

"Yes."

"Oh."

Kurt raises his hand like a child in school. Why? He isn't exactly sure, but it might have to do with the four glasses of wine he had before this conversation started, "Wait, I thought you two only slept with each other once and that was at the wedding."

Rachel laughs but quickly covers her mouth with the back of her hand, "And you believed them? Seriously, Kurt? Anybody can see these two have slept with each other more than once. And I don't even have to share a bed with them to know that."

The two girls don't pay attention to them as they start their own conversation, "If you are counting those then it's _six_."

Quinn struggles to argue but shakes her head, the smile on her lips turning into a full laugh that she tries to turn away from but fails, "Right." She stops for a moment when a thought comes to mind, "Wait, why you didn't count them?"

Rachel elbows Kurt and motions towards the two across from them. He ceases his argument, "Be glad you don't have to put up with those two."

Rachel says nothing as if she doesn't hear him. Her attention completely taken over by the two girls pointing and whispering harshly at each other. Kurt finds it oddly creepy that Rachel finds so much interest but then again it's Rachel.

He scoots a little closer, making sure not to alert the other two of his movements, his voice lowering to a whisper, "What are you doing?"

"The same thing you've been trying to do but I'm speeding up the process." Rachel notes the way they laugh with each other over whatever secret and she can't help but let a smile linger on her face, "Besides, we both know they need it."

"Sex?"

"No," She nudges him again for his lewd mind, "The whole relationship thing."

Kurt snorts uncharacteristically but the seriousness on Rachel's face makes him stop, "Oh god, you're serious." Looking back at the two, who's faces prove them to be in a rather serious conversation, he turns to Rachel again, "You seem to be forgetting something."

Rachel takes a peek, letting a giggle escape her when the two laugh together, "What could I possibly be forgetting, Kurt?"

Kurt tugs her arm so she's closer to him, he makes sure her eyes look at him when he tells her the one thing she doesn't seem to comprehend, "Quinn's not gay."

"Oh don't be silly, Kurt. If she wasn't, she would have said something by now about this entire conversation. Besides, she doesn't have to be _gay._"

Quinn sighs in frustration after Santana yet again tells her the reasoning of not including certain activities, "That doesn't make sense, Santana. It counts."

"It _can_ but that doesn't necessarily mean it _does_."

"Whatever."

"You know Q, I can always just remind you what counts."

"Please, it was only-"

"If you say two or four or five time thing, I will slap you."

The laugh that generates from Quinn has everyone staring because at this moment, it's the first for everyone to see her so comfortable. Comfortable around _them_.

And Rachel can barely tear her eyes away from them, their bodies closer then what she remembers them to be from a few minutes ago. She carefully takes in their interactions, how Santana playfully hits or Quinn's natural reaction to anything Santana does is smile.

"Friends my ass."


	7. Loose Ends

The ground is hard and uncomfortable but mix that with the window open so it's below zero in the apartment, it just equals a shitty New York morning. This isn't different from a lot of other mornings in New York. Someone could be shooting someone down the street, or the police could be busting down the door; both especially common in Bushwick.

It's about five in the morning when Rachel sits up from her position on the floor. Her eyes slightly closed but her mind dizzy. She puts a hand down to steady herself but even with her eyes barely open, the world spins. Her other hand is already at her mouth and she's scrambling to stand. The noise she suppresses has Santana stirring.

It isn't until Rachel is doubled over the toilet and shaking that Santana's eyes open fully. Eyes scanning her surroundings, Kurt lays on the only couch, arm dangling off the side probably to keep him grounded. Her eyes barely to get to Quinn next to her but the sound of Rachel dying in the bathroom has her up and swaying towards the so called 'bird calls'.

"Rachel?" A hand loosens from its grip on porcelain, rising in the air causing Santana to lean against the door frame and wait. Another heave and Santana pushes off to walk in. Hand soothingly rubbing up and down the other girl's back, "Still can't hang, Berry." There is a noise that has Santana frowning but Rachel returns her grip onto the toilet, knuckles turning white. Santana can't honestly place the last time she has been in this position.

Santana stays with Rachel for another fifteen minutes, of course in those fifteen minutes she is mostly rubbing her hand up and down Rachel's back while the other tries to play angry birds. She doesn't even hear the toilet flush. But she does feel Rachel try to stand up and use the sink.

"Whoa, slow your roll boozy." Santana stands quickly, aiding Rachel in washing her face. The girl not saying anything but a groan does escape when cold water hits her face, "Do you want me to get you some aspirin?"

Rachel can only nod as Santana steadies her and guides her back into the living room. Neither is steady which causes Santana to bump into Kurt's protruding foot. A groan comes from him as he retracts it. His body curls up giving Rachel the room to sit at the end of the couch.

"Santana?" The voice isn't Rachel's and it has Santana turning from her direction to the kitchen. Her focus is on Quinn rolling on the floor, hand searching around for a blanket.

"I swear this place is worse than a frat house." She mumbles under her breathe as she snatches the quilt draped over Kurt's body. He groans a small 'bitch' while both his eyes squint up at Santana, "Bite me sparkles."

At this point Rachel is somewhat coherent with her head down on the couch arm; eyes watching Santana drape the quilt over Quinn. She smiles at the gesture, knowing Santana has done this routine many times. She can vividly remember the many nights Santana had been the one to find people a place to sleep and even giving up a bed for one of their classmates. Not that Santana would ever admit to such kindness to strangers or well anyone for that matter.

Kurt is sitting up now with a hand cradling the back of his neck, "It's freezing in here."

"Get a blanket."

He glares at Santana returning with water and a bottle of aspirin. Wincing as Santana purposely rattles the bottle in front of him, "Hag." He misses while trying to push her away, "Why are we even awake? What time is it?"

Rachel tucks her legs beneath her, bringing herself to sit up and drink, "Five in the morning." Her head drops back a bit as she swallows a pill. Her face expresses just how much she dislikes the feeling.

"I taste," Kurt holds a hand to his mouth, a quiet burp escaping him, "That's disgusting."

"You're the one that finished the bottle." Santana takes a seat on the floor next to Quinn.

"I hate Tequila."

"That wasn't what you were singing last night."

"Why does she get to sleep?" Kurt makes a move to pull the quilt but Santana slaps his hand away before he can, "But it's cold!"

"Go get your own."

Kurt huffs and just reclines into the sofa, "You don't even live here anymore."

Santana checks the time on her phone, frowning as if she is contemplating something. She looks back up at Kurt and Rachel, both half in and out of consciousness. Kurt takes in deep breaths while Rachel quietly stares at her with half lidded eyes.

She should feel worried but she doesn't. Rachel does have a tendency to stare, at first it was, (in Santana's reasoning) creepy and serial killer-esque. Now, it's less serial killer and more of a closeted roommate vibe.

"Santana."

Kurt's voice shakes her from her weird staring contest with Rachel, her focus now on Kurt with his head lolled to the side. He says nothing at first and also stares. Santana figures it's the alcohol making things slower than usual in the neuron department so she doesn't blame him as he struggles. But he doesn't say anything for the next few seconds so she snaps her fingers, "Focus, Kurt."

He blinks hard and shakes his head; his face contorting to what Santana thinks is another burp, "Can you get me-"

"No."

She grabs a discarded pillow near her, fluffing it and setting it beside Quinn's sleeping form. Her head drops for a moment, she has about an hour before she needs to get ready and go back to her own apartment.

"Thanks for staying last night."

She doesn't want to turn her head because she is sure Rachel has this look that's in between crying and happy. Not a sight Santana wants to deal with at five in the morning. Not a sight anyone should deal with so she doesn't. She curls into Quinn instead because if she wants to deal with a full day's worth of classes, she is going to need some sleep.

The funny thing about this is, Santana can easily slip out of the living room and pick Kurt's or Rachel's bed because that's what she always does but, there is something about having all them in the living room and enjoying company...even if it isn't sober company.

* * *

When Santana's alarm goes off at six, she groans, her eyes refusing to open. It turns off before she can search for it, a hand returning to her waist. She waits a beat before moving to sit up, her eyes heavy but open. The apartment is still as dark as it was an hour ago. Both bodies still haven't moved from their place on the couch.

A hand reaches for hers and she looks down at Quinn who is stretching, "Leaving?"

"Yeah, I have to head back to the apartment."

"I'll go with you."

"Are you kidding me? Stay here. I'll stop by after class or something. Drop by with those burgers you were talking about."

Quinn makes a small noise resembling a laugh but Santana doesn't really pay attention because she is watching Quinn's shirt rise and she's shaking her head before the thought materializes. Warm body and too much tequila.

"I really don't want to be sleeping on the floor anymore."

"Take Lady Hummel's or Berry's bed. I suggest Hummel because he has that foam that's amazing."

Quinn turns away to stretch a different part of her body and Santana's eyes wander back to the area of skin exposing itself around Quinn's midriff. Before Quinn can catch her, Santana is already looking away and blowing out air.

The statistics are going through her brain and she can't really remember the last time she- her head shakes. It's a vulnerable time for Quinn and here she is thinking about her libido.

"What are you thinking about?"

Quinn's curled up again her eyes tired but interested as Santana looks back at her. They are quiet and staring but neither says anything. It's borderline awkward until Kurt coughs and both are looking at the two on the couch. Rachel's asleep at the end of one end while Kurt twitches on the other. Both share a silent laugh before turning back to each other.

"Nothing."

"Bullshit."

"You don't want to know."

"Try me."

The alarm goes off again and Quinn has it in her hands before Santana can reach for it, effectively silencing the device in favour of their conversation. She waits for Santana to continue but there is nothing because Santana is already standing and grabbing the phone, "I gotta go."

They share one more look before Santana picks up her discarded jacket and opens the latch to the front. Quinn stays silent for only a second, her attention turning back to the sleeping duo on the couch. She stares until Kurt twitches again as if he can feel her eyes watching him.

"I know you're awake, Kurt."

He opens one eye and then the other, his face guilty, "I didn't mean to interrupt."

"You didn't."

"Really? Because it reminded me of some scene from-"

"You're still drunk."

"And you are in denial."

Quinn lets out a frustrated sigh before falling back onto her pillow. She looks up at the ceiling and just breathes knowing Kurt is waiting for her to say something back, "Like we said last night Kurt, we're friends. We can be friends you know."

"Santana and I are friends. Rachel and Santana are friends. You and Santana," He pauses to let his words sink in a little, "You guys have always been more than friends."

Quinn stays silent, thinking of all the times this conversation has been had not by Kurt but everyone else that has met Santana. Her roommates in New Haven, who never quite understood why Santana was allowed to show up uninvited, her many one night stands that Santana has had the unfortunate luck of running into, and Mercedes.

"I'm not Brittany, Kurt."

Her statement silences him and she lays there for a few more minutes before standing up, grabbing a few pillows, and walking towards Kurt's side of the apartment. The feeling of her body hitting his foam mattress is heavenly and she almost expects Kurt to protest at her actions. He doesn't though so she takes this small pleasure and closes her eyes, arms hugging a pillow tight.

* * *

By the time Quinn opens her eyes again, the room is brightly lit and the smell of burnt bacon invades her senses. Thankfully there isn't much of a hangover to deal with but she doesn't move to test the theory. That changes however when she hears Rachel's footsteps and she knows it's Rachel because unless Kurt started wearing heels in the apartment then it would be Santana but she knows that it isn't.

She knows.

"Oh, you're awake."

Quinn turns away from Rachel's voice because that _does_ test her hangover theory and she rather not test further. When there are no retreating footsteps, Quinn takes a chance to look. Rachel is still standing about a foot away from the bed, hands wringing at each other nervously.

"Your phone went off a couple times." Quinn fully turns her body to face Rachel, "At first I thought it was your alarm." Quinn slowly sits up, a daunting feeling rising from the pit of her stomach, "And I was going to turn it off but they were phone calls and," Rachel eyes are tearing up and Quinn sitting at the edge of the bed, "I accidentally answered a phone call."

Quinn is up before Rachel can finish explaining, her body on autopilot as she makes her way into the living room. Hands grabbing at her iPhone on the table stand, thumbs typing in her code and rifling through her messages. Her mind is fuzzy as she reads all the messages that have come through in the last five hours. The missed calls are even more startling. She feels herself falling down and she physically does because the floor is closer than what it was earlier but a pair of arms is around her before she even realizes she's not even standing anymore.

"Breathe. Breathe." Voices are fuzzy but she knows it's not just Rachel home. Quinn can't exactly see but she has a feeling its Kurt holding her up, she didn't even know he was there, "Rach, what happened?"

* * *

"How long do you think she'll stay out there?" Rachel chews at her bottom lip as she paces around their living room. Her attention turning to their fire escape every few seconds where she can make Quinn's figure leaning against the glass.

Kurt sits on their couch, holding Quinn's cell phone, "Probably until her phone dies. And with a call coming in every two seconds, I'm sure it won't be long."

The sliding door opens with a creak and Santana is looking around like a deprived drug addict, "I do not see a burning apartment."

Rachel and Kurt cautiously look towards the window to the fire escape and Santana is dropping her bag and bounding over. Rachel holds her back before she can get within three more steps, "We didn't how to explain. The phone has been going off non-stop since this afternoon."

Santana snaps her fingers and Kurt is standing up and handing her the cell phone, "Why didn't one of you just turn it off?"

Rachel shrugs and Kurt looks at her helpless. Santana turns the phone off at mid ring and tosses it on the couch. She takes a few strides towards the window but Rachel steps in front of her, "Just to let you know, we might have given her something to calm down."

"More like she went through one of your old drawers and found something. We didn't _give_ her anything." Kurt crosses his arms and looks at part of the apartment where Santana's room was once set up. Santana's eyes follow his and she sets them on a cabinet that they use for miscellaneous things.

"Please don't tell me…"

"I didn't know you had them in there."

"I thought we got rid of all that stuff."

Santana charges forward, gently pushing Rachel aside. Her hands go for the window sill and push it upward, "I'm going to kick your ass, Q."

* * *

The window has been closed for over an hour but that doesn't Rachel or Kurt from over hearing Santana's yells. They are sure the neighbors have heard everything but its New York and they all know Santana so they know better than to tell her to keep it down. Rachel has stopped pacing and Kurt's coffee intake has increased since the phone started going off. For as much flailing as Santana's arms are doing, it's a wonder how both girls are steady on the fire escape.

"It's just family."

"It's not _just_ my family, Santana. My dad is-" Santana lets out a snort and shakes her head.

"So? What does he have to do with any of this, Q? He left, remember? His opinion is as valuable as Finn Hudson's shit."

"I can handle my mom but not-"Quinn cuts herself off and looks at the street below them. Eyes focus on passing cars and people.

"Stop this little pity party and call her back. She is probably worried shitless. You did leave New Haven without a word and last time I checked, she was the only part of your family you kept in touch with."

"It's _Frann__ie_, Santana. I can't just explain things to her."

"Uh, yeah you can. With a name like _that_, you shouldn't be afraid." Santana takes a step closer, not that they weren't already close given the space available, but she puts a reassuring hand on Quinn's shoulder, "Look, I know your parents always made her out to be some," Santana's free hand goes up and does makeshift quotation marks, "Golden child but, we have all seen her less than that. Remember that time we had that sleep over and she came in at like 1am drunk off her ass from some high school party? Not so golden then. Stop making you sister out to be some fucking saint who doesn't go batshit sometimes."

"We aren't as close as everybody thinks."

"Okay, stop making her out to be some monster like your father. Out of all the people in your family, your sister is probably the most sane and understanding. Trust me, I've met them all."

"You said that about your grandmother."

Santana narrows her eyes and breathes, stopping herself from biting at Quinn's words, "This is about you, not me, so go inside, show the wonder twins that you are still alive and not about to go do something stupid, and call your sister back."

Quinn sighs and looks around, her hands coming up to hug her herself, "And give me the pack of cigs that you stole from my drawer."

Quinn laughs and Santana feels slightly better about the situation seeing as that it's the first laugh in the past hour. Quinn digs into a pocket of her dress; the action causes Santana to pull away due to not knowing any of Quinn's dresses even had pockets, "These are shit by the way."

"Yeah okay whatever, get your ass inside."

"You just want to stare at my ass."

"Yeah, no. That dress does nothing for you. Seriously, stop dressing like a school teacher, if you are going that route try like a sexy librarian or something."

* * *

Rachel and Kurt offer to leave to give Quinn some privacy but Quinn doesn't let them. She honestly doesn't mind having them around for the conversation. It saves her time for repeating anything and it's not like they won't ask later. They feign reluctance but take a seat on the couch before Quinn changes her mind, both watching as if it movie were unfolding in front of them. Santana surprisingly checks out of the conversation and stays in the kitchen, not that it will stop her from hearing anything. The apartment has no walls and there is no such thing as privacy.

It takes about six attempts before Quinn finally lets a call go through. By the fourth attempt, Kurt had gotten up and made some popcorn and on five, Rachel had grabbed a few pillows in preparation of a long night.

The call doesn't last long much to the 'twins' dismay, Quinn only says a few short words and it seems as if Frannie does most of the talking. Quinn's head nods and small noises of agreement are the only clue that it is going remotely well. As soon as she hangs up, Kurt is at his feet and Rachel is shooting questions.

"What'd she say?"

Quinn sets her phone down and let's her arms fall to her sides, "She's coming to get me."


	8. Brady Bunch

Family can trump a lot of decisions in life. Where you go to school, where you apply for jobs, what to study, who not to associate with, or everyone's favourite who to date. Sometimes they don't trump decisions but they leave that thought in a person's head. They tend to be that factor at the end of the day. Of course this depends on someone's relationship with their parents. Naturally, good relationships tend to have good give and take benefits. Bad ones tend to end in screams and someone slamming a door. But at the end of the day as hard as it is to bite the fact, they are family. Even if they are jerks and deserve to rot in hell.

Quinn can't say she had a bad life, her dad did let her go through surgery and her mom left her dad because he was abusive and overall insane. It's broken and not perfect but she can still say has a family. Though her admittance to that isn't over a whisper but she does. Her mom sends her emails or cards. Some make sense, others don't, then again a person can only stay sober for so long.

But sometimes in families there is always that light, a part that just makes everyone happy and families worth it; no matter how rough it is. Have it be a dog or a cat or some cousin that visits with a bottle of whiskey, some families have them, some don't. Frannie was always that light. The light in her father's eyes, her mother's, and the entire family always loved Frannie. She was perfect…at everything. Didn't have to go through surgery to look gorgeous, didn't _have_ to date the quarter back (she did anyway), didn't have to do all the things Quinn had fought so much for to be where she was in life. Frannie was just that person. She always was and always will be…to Quinn.

"Why didn't you call me?"

Quinn sits on the couch of Kurt and Rachel's living room. All three of her friends had left to give her privacy. She figured it would be easier to explain anything to her sister in an environment that Frannie had seen before. That and she would rather not have her entire family knocking on Santana's door if it comes down to it.

It was more than a surprise when Frannie had stated she was actually in New Haven at the time. It surprised Quinn even more that Frannie had been in New Haven for more than a few weeks yet hadn't said anything until now.

"You could have called me, Quinn."

"And tell you what? That my school might reprimand me for sleeping with my professor? How did you expect me to call you for that?" Quinn stays seated while Frannie stands in front her. Arms across her chest, long blonde hair flowing down her back, the Fabray trademark stance.

"I expect you to call me because I'm your sister-"

"Like all the other times you have come for my defense, Frannie?" Quinn stands before she can stop herself, her voice raising more than she intends.

"I couldn't come home and you know it." Frannie stands tall in front Quinn but not by much. Their sibling rivalry both are accustomed with. Not that it ever leaves.

"No, you were scared and you left me. As soon as you were able walk out the door, you didn't bother to look back Fran, not even for me." Frannie glares with her hands balled into fists, Quinn looks down and nods, "Truths a bitch. And you are no different than the rest of the-"

With one lift of Frannie's hand Quinn closes her eyes, after all the years of not seeing her father's hand in the air, Frannie raising her hand is just as frightening to Quinn. But there is no hit or smack instead soft hands on her cheek and it's enough for her eyes to begin to water.

The distance between the two is the least it has been in years. Quinn can't remember the last time she has been this close to her sister or even the last time she has even hugged a family member.

"I know you hate me for that Quinn. I know." Frannie's hands pull Quinn's face up but Quinn refuses to open her eyes, because in front of her stands the person her parents always wanted her to be. She isn't ready to admit she will never be that person. Or that no matter how hard she tries she won't ever amount to anything Frannie is.

"I was scared. I didn't come back because it scared me so much and I should have been there for you then." Quinn slowly opens her eyes and she is met with the only other eyes that compare to hers. "Let me be here for you now. Let me help you. You can't run away forever, I should know that the best."

Quinn pulls away and turns her back to Frannie, she would rather have her father hit her than let Frannie see her cry.

"Quinn."

"What could you possibly do Fran?"

"Anything that will help."

"What if I don't want to go back?" Quinn faces her sister once more and looks Frannie in the eyes.

"Why wouldn't you want to go back?" Frannie steps back and gauges her sister's face, "Where would you go? Where would you stay-" Frannie stops herself and stares around her. Taking in her surroundings and letting it fall into place. She gives Quinn a look that resembles one of disagreement but in the back of Frannie's mind she understands the comfort her sister seeks.

"Quinn…" Frannie starts to voice her opinion but Quinn is shaking her head and already disagreeing, "Think about this. You have a year left at one of the most respectable Ivy League schools in the country. Why would you throw it all away now? This situation can be dealt with."

Quinn rolls her eyes and sits back down like a child throwing a tantrum, "How?"

"Let me help you."

* * *

Frannie doesn't stay long knowing any more pushing of the matter will only have Quinn pull away completely. She opts to stay in a hotel, coincidentally not too far from Santana's own apartment. Quinn doesn't tell her anything and lets her leave under the assumption that she would be staying with Rachel and Kurt.

As promising as Frannie's words may be, Quinn is still unsure where she really stands. She hadn't exactly thought that far into the future when she started packing her bags. Hell, she didn't really think that much into it even when she had the space and time to after.

"What is she going to do?"

"I don't know. It's Frannie."

Santana sighs and pushes off the counter she has been leaning against, "She's a Fabray, you mean."

Quinn glances towards her but stays silent, not liking the implication that her entire family is the same.

"And if there is one thing all of you have in common besides blonde hair and pretty children," Santana pauses for a beat at the use of a certain word, "Is the fact that you are all a pain in the ass and stubborn as hell."

"Santana, I'm not sure how your input helps Quinn's situation-"

"All I'm saying is, your entire family isn't all that far from the Brady Brunch."

Kurt frowns with a head shake and stops her with a hand in the air, "You mean the Brady Bunch. And Santana, they were considered a great family."

"Uh no, he dated his sister? That in my book isn't all that great."

"Those were the actors."

"Life imitating art?"

"You've lost me."

"He was banging his tv sister and it made the show weird because it looked like he wanted to bang her there too." Kurt attempts to address the fact that Santana is openly admitting to watching the tv show but bites his tongue when Santana glares at him. Almost daring him to say something about her tv choices.

"So you're saying Quinn's family is full of incest?"

Santana frowns at the questions because it's not at all what she means, "No, I'm saying it isn't perfect."

Rachel glances at Kurt and also frowns, "I don't think that was the right example."

"The _point_ is the family wasn't perfect but they were there for each other, right? Even in the creepy messed up way."

"I still don't think that's the example you're reaching for but I kind of get it." Kurt turns to Rachel and shakes his head. He doesn't get it but he might as well agree with Santana now than try and explain to her that the Brady Bunch and the Fabray's have absolutely nothing in common.

* * *

"You better not have another pack out here or I will go all Lima Heights-"

Santana practically crawls her way through the window and out on to the fire escape. The metal screeches with the extra weight but it no longer bothers Santana as much as it usually does. A slight breeze has her hugging herself already but it doesn't deter her. She stays regardless of the hazard and the chill.

Quinn doesn't turn, instead she stays leaning against the railing and looks out toward to the roof tops the makeshift balcony gives, "You've used that threat for years and we both know you aren't from _that_ side of the tracks."

Santana joins her but opts out of putting any more weight on the metal rail, "Freshman year at cheer leading tryouts, you were the one that said it not me. It stuck. I never corrected anyone. Besides no one needed to know I lived down the street from you."

A scoff comes from Quinn but she doesn't turn her head, "Down the street? Santana, you were practically an arm's length away and a pain in my ass since I've met you."

They are silent for a moment. It's in their silence that they let their friendship breath a little. Both silently take in the events as of late and their decisions. Just how much longer did Quinn have before everything caught up to her? How much longer will Santana stay quiet?

"Well you still need some guidance obviously."

"Gee thanks."

"Just telling it how I see it."

Quinn finally turns her attention away from the view and stares at Santana's profile, "With your Mexican third eye?"

The wind picks up and for a moment Quinn gazes at Santana's features. She wonders for a moment how someone like Santana can care for her after all the things they have been through, "Don't hate."

The moment leaves Quinn and she suppresses a laugh, "Jesus."

A light tap to Quinn's forearm has them both giggling, "Hey my Mexican third eye has helped you out more than your Jesus. Keep that in mind."

They grow silent after their laughter dies down; both just staring at one another in hopes an answer will come out of it. An answer to what neither know but they wait for it anyway. Because out of all the blurriness that Quinn has encountered in the past few months, Santana seems to be the only clear figure in her life. Surprising seeing as Santana moves like a tornado with everyone else.

"Thank you." The gesture is out of place and it throws Santana off slightly because in her mind she hasn't done anything to be thanked for. Let alone for Quinn to look at her like there is something more to their conversation.

"For what?"

Quinn shrugs and smiles, "For being here."

"Can't go anywhere else Blondie."

"I'm serious." The way Quinn looks at her that has Santana looking away because the conversation isn't as light as she would like it to be. It's the look that she avoids when it comes to Rachel and Kurt. The kind of look when they try to tell her she is being a good person. A look she doesn't need because she is always an awesome person. In her eyes.

"What are friends for, right?" The delivery is shaky but Santana tries her best to seem genuine. Unfortunately for their friendship, she knows where the direction these conversations go and most of the time it ends with someone crying or getting slapped. Quinn is the most emotional person she knows. Anything sets the blonde off crying and Santana isn't in the mood to deal with tears.

"You know, the old you would have asked questions."

"It looked rough." Santana pulls away with her arms still around herself, as if it will stop the chill spreading through her body, "I didn't need an explanation. You had your bags packed, that was enough."

"Without a second thought?"

"Well, duh." Santana shrugs, "Of course I wondered but you're you. You would have told me sooner or later."

Quinn stays silent for minute, contemplating her next words. She shakes her head to whatever inhibitions stop her, "What if I didn't?"

The wind blows and both shiver, Santana more with nothing but a t-shirt and some skinny jeans to cover her body, "It wouldn't have changed my mind, Q. I wasn't going to leave you out in the cold."

"You could have just dropped me off here."

"Christ, Fabray, what kind of a friend do you take me for?"

Quinn bites her cheek in thought, "What do you think I should do?"

Santana sighs as the chill settles within her, "I'm not going to tell you what to do."

"Oh please, you've been waiting to tell me-"

"No. I haven't." For once in their conversations Santana's voice is stern, "I'm not your mom or your dad. And definitely not Frannie," Santana lets her words sink in with Quinn, "Do what you want to do. Stop giving these decisions to someone else. You've done it before. Do it again. You don't need anyone telling you anything."

Quinn sighs and runs a frustrated hand through her hair. Her eyes looking back out towards the skyline, "Humour me, Santana."

Santana lets her eyes take in Quinn, the frustration showing where her eyebrows are knitted together, the hand that stays in blonde locks, and the way she just seems so broken, "I can't."

Quinn keeps her eyes forward, "Can't what."

"I can't tell you what to do because anything I say will sound…" She lets herself trail off because she isn't sure where her words are going but they aren't going to be the words Quinn is looking for. That much she does know.

"Sound like what?" Their eyes meet and for a split second, both feel as if they are on the same page.

"Just trust yourself, Q."

Quinn looks away and sighs, her hand leaving her hair and falling to her side.

The stand in silence for a while as the wind blows around them. Both deep in thought for very different reasons and some the same.

"Santana."

"Yeah?"

Quinn turns her body again to face Santana's quiet form, "You know you're amazing right?"

* * *

It's 2 in the morning and Kurt is pacing, Rachel sitting at the kitchen table while Santana stands near a window. All three quietly discussing Quinn's fate with her absent older sister as Quinn sleeps in Kurt's bed.

"I for one think it's a great idea. Honestly, when was the last time we have seen Quinn with anybody from her family?" Rachel sits straight with her hands on the wooden table.

"I don't know Rach. Don't you think it's a little weird that Frannie was in New Haven already?" Kurt stops his pacing. A hand covers his waist while the other extends out as he tries to grasp the reality of the situation.

Rachel shrugs, "Maybe Frannie wanted to visit?"

"But when was the last time Quinn even mentioned Frannie? I didn't think they were on speaking terms, other than the rare email." Kurt takes a seat, eyes heavy in thought.

"What's wrong with her sister wanting to speak to her? I think it's wonderful. Don't you Santana?"

Santana turns and walks toward the table. A table she is can recall a lot of roommate talks, "I think that if her sister wants to help, we should support it."

"Really?" Kurt whips his head around to stare at Santana in shock. It's rare for both of the girls to ever agree on anything. It's not often or ever that Kurt has the pleasure to not hear an argument result from a roommate talk.

"Obviously, you two don't know Fabray family history."

Kurt frowns and crosses his arms, "Sorry, no. I was too busy being shoved into dumpsters and hiding in a closet to think about Quinn Fabray's life choices." He says most of this under his breath while Rachel gives him a small smile.

"The Fabray's have always been known to be manipulative shits. Frannie included. Manipulative, conniving, blonde headed shits is what they are. If Frannie wanted something, she got it…whatever it took. Hell, she got into Harvard."

"Frannie got into Hardvard?" Kurt's eyebrows rise at the piece of information. Rachel tilts her head in curiosity.

"I didn't know Frannie was so close."

"A Fabray is never too far from another Fabray."

Rachel nods but then stops when she leans forward on her hands, "But what does that have to do with anything?"

"What do most people do when they go to Harvard, Einstein?"

"She's a lawyer?"

"No, she's a fashion designer." Santana deadpans and rolls her eyes at Kurt's piqued interest for that second, "Whatever is going on with Q, Frannie is probably the only one that can do anything about it."

Kurt bites his bottom lip, "But what makes you so sure she even wants Frannie's help?"

* * *

"You missed your entire side of the room Fabray." Santana looks around to see that none of Quinn's belongings have moved from any area of _her_ room. Despite having the closet open, Santana can clearly see the same amount of clothes hanging, "Or you don't know what the word 'packing' means." Santana takes a seat at the edge of the bed and watches as Quinn moves around the room putting a couple t-shirts in a suitcase. It's when Quinn turns to throw a couple dresses in that Santana goes for her free arm.

"What?"

"You came here with boxes, Q. Boxes. Now you're leaving with a single suitcase. Wanna share with the class?"

Quinn looks around the room and then back at her barely half full suitcase, "I thought I could leave some things here."

Santana's eyebrows rise as she starts mentally counting the various objects in the room that do not belong, "Some? This is practically _your_ room-"

There is a frustrating sound and Quinn plops onto the bed, "I'm just not sure what Frannie is trying to accomplish so I'm leaving things here…"

"Already planning your escape back?" Santana tilts her head with a smile. The comment is meant to be light but with the way Quinn drops her shoulders, Santana wants to back pedal.

"Just until I figure out how Frannie is exactly helping. For all I know she could be kidnapping me and sending me to my dad." Santana's eyes bulge and she puts a hand on Quinn's arm.

"Don't joke. You're family mucho loco."

Quinn laughs and it's the laugh that Santana wishes Quinn would do more often. Where Quinn's teeth show and her body shakes with each sound. Where her eyes wrinkle slightly. It's a good laugh. A laugh everyone should be able to see on a daily basis. Santana stops for a moment and shakes her head slightly at her own thoughts.

"Stop trying to speak Spanish when you and I both know the only Spanish you know is what your mom used to yell at you when we would sneak booze in your room."

Santana drops her jaw but smiles afterward because it's the truth. As much as Mr. Schu loved to use the language as some sort of connection the only thing Santana ever had to say back were curse words, "Uh, excuse me. Who helped you in Spanish class?"

"Your mom!"

Santana retreats with a slightly sour face, "Ooh don't say that. That's just let's not-"

"PERV!"

They giggle for a few minutes but once it dies down, Quinn is still left with a half full suitcase and no motivation to fill it. Her thoughts wander to Frannie's ideas which she actually has no clue what they involve. A part that scares her the most is what if Frannie can help. What if she can't?

"If-"

"Hold up, if you ask to stay here if shit hits the fan. You should already know my answer."

There is no hesitation in Quinn's movements as she launches herself at Santana. Both nearly toppling off the bed but Santana steadies them with her arms secured around Quinn's waist.

"Thank you."

Santana silently thanks Quinn's obscured view because she's rolling her eyes, "You keep saying that like I'm conducting world peace. You and I both know that's not ever happening so stop."

Breaking apart Quinn looks at Santana in the eyes and for a second Santana feels uncomfortable. An uneasiness that is ridiculous because they share a bed every night but sometimes she forgets that it's hard to disagree with hazel eyes this close. Hell this close, she isn't even sure they are hazel.

"Just take a compliment for once, Santana. A compliment from me."

They're so close that Santana leans back a little. The air between them a little too warm for her taste. The movement has Quinn frowning but not for long because Santana disguises it by standing up and plucking her NYU sweats from a near by chair. She says nothing as she folds the material, Quinn watching her every move until they drop into the suitcase.

"Go. Go be something great." The words are foreign in Santana's mouth but she can't stop them from forming. She nearly gags at being so nice.

"And if I don't? Become something great?"

Santana stares, holding Quinn's gaze. Both knowing the conversation could go any direction.

"You better be careful Fabray. You make it sound like I'll wait around for your ass."

The comment garners a small smile from Quinn but she says nothing more as she stands to throw in another dress.


	9. you've got a friend in me

Two weeks go by without a word from Quinn or Frannie. Rachel says it's a busy time but Kurt disagrees. Santana leaves it alone saying it's none of their business. A statement neither Rachel nor Kurt truly believe. And it's true. As much as Santana tries to hide her concern, it's as obvious as day to those she has hidden it from before. Then again, living with Kurt and Rachel for years tends to show the side she tries so hard to hide.

When they try to ask if Quinn is leaving them out of the loop, Santana assures them they aren't the only ones. It isn't the first time they have gone a few weeks without any word from the ex-cheerio. Quinn isn't forgetful but she can be private.

"She said she would keep in touch." The atmosphere of their favourite café is loud and drowning. Their voices are barely heard between each other. Not that it bothers Santana any.

Rachel scoots her chair as close as she can and Santana stares out the window distant to the conversation at hand.

"She's fine." Santana says it distantly and unaware of their eager faces.

Kurt practically jumps forward, his hands gripping the table as he leans over, "How do you know?"

Santana sighs and crosses her arms, her eyes meeting Kurt's, "Because if she wasn't she would be back here. She's probably burying herself in work. "

Kurt eases himself back into his chair while his eyes dart around to see if anyone had noticed his eagerness. Rachel continues to sip her coffee as she eyes Santana carefully. She contemplates whether or not to ask Santana again, but it might bring on an argument for them being so repetitive. Not that anyone can blame them. They have been left in the dark before.

"What if we go visit her?"

Kurt raises his eyebrows in interest and straightens his body, "Go on."

"Well, if she isn't coming to us, why not go to her?" Rachel looks between them, gauging Santana's reaction more than Kurt's.

"We can do this weekend."

"I can't." It's quiet but Rachel sees it more than hears it come from Santana.

Kurt frowns and glares over at Santana, "You're telling me you can't spare a weekend?"

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means you had time to play house with Quinn but now you can't even pull off two days?" Kurt stares knowing there is something more behind Santana's avoidance to Quinn's situation, "This is coming from someone who had all the time in the world for Quinn two weeks ago but not now?"

Rachel tries her best not to give Santana a look but she fails because once she does look over, Santana catches her, "He's right, Santana. What changed?"

"Nothing changed." Santana fights a sigh to show her disinterest but it's hard when that's all the two ever talk about. Her constant distancing from others and her problems, not that Quinn is a problem but it's a situation she is not willing to participate in at the moment.

"I don't know how many more years we have to go through in order for you to trust us."

An eye roll and Santana throws all caution out the window, "I do trust you."

"No you don't. If you did you would have told us what was wrong from the beginning."

"I think the question is do you trust me." Rachel shifts uncomfortably in her seat. It isn't the first time they have questioned Santana's methods of dealing with certain things. She did go through their things the first time she moved in but they had gotten so used to her antics that they had brushed everything and anything off when it came to her unconventional manners. To ask this question is both ridiculous and jarring. Of course they trusted her.

"Because I don't think you do. If you did you would back off on all of this and just let it happen. Quinn's a big girl she's doing just fine. You and Anna Winters need to stop thinking that I'm hiding things."

"But you do it all the time, Santana. You did hide Quinn from us."

"What else have I hidden from you? Besides Quinn's privacy, what else is there? I have been honest with you since day one. Ever since I walked into your apartment and set my suitcase down but you two have 'kicked' me out more times than I can count and have accused me of lying and cheating when I don't have the need or want to." The screech of Santana's chair is loud and attention drawing, a few patrons stop their conversations to watch Santana storm out, the glass door nearly hitting an incoming customer.

Kurt sighs and sits back in his chair, "I hate to ever admit that she is right but she is."

"But it doesn't make sense, Kurt."

Rachel bites her cheek in thought. There could be a thousand reasons as to why Santana wouldn't be worried but if Quinn is involved it just brings more importance to the question.

"Maybe we can just go?"

"What makes you think Quinn will tell us anything without her guard dog around?"

"Kurt!" Rachel gasps in surprise. For Kurt to belittle his friendship with Santana shocks her. Even with the confusion of Quinn's situation, Rachel can't help but lightly tap Kurt's hand on the table.

Kurt shrugs his shoulders, "What? It's true! Santana acts like a pitbull ready to tear anyone's head off if they get too close Quinn and Quinn doesn't mind. Those two are one in the same. Without one around the other won't say anything."

"Quinn is our friend as much as she is Santana's."

An uncharacteristic snort comes out of Kurt which causes Rachel to purse her lips, "That kiss said something completely different."

"Kurt…" Rachel warns him with another look but Kurt continues regardless of Rachel's caution to the subject.

"Quinn is like Brittany-"

Rachel pushes away from the table and shakes her head. The action makes Kurt stop, "I hope you don't repeat that in front of any of them. They aren't the same. Quinn is completely different from Brittany. It's a shame if you think they are anywhere near similar to each other Kurt."

Kurt throws his hands up in defeat, "Anything I say today is going to be wrong isn't it?"

* * *

_The number you have dialed is out of service._

The recording plays on Santana's speaker phone repeatedly as she downs another glass of wine. She tips the bottle to pour more but nothing comes out. Just her luck to have run out booze the only time she really wants it.

She stops the recording before it repeats itself and tosses the phone aside. She takes a quick glance in the direction of her throw and sighs. The numbers of pillows have doubled since Quinn's stay. And even though Santana has only ever slept on her own, she can't bring herself to remove any additions.

"Fuck."

* * *

3 AM rolls around and Santana shifts again in her bed. Her eyes watch the clock as it turns to 3:01. She closes them only to see the same time blinking back at her. The thought of trying the number again crosses her mind but she forgets it knowing it won't do any good. She should have gotten Frannie's number.

The sound of the front door opening pulls her away from her thoughts and her hand automatically goes for the bat next to the night stand. Her feet are already on the floor before whoever it is can take the first step into the living room. She knows she locked the door. Her hands grip the bat tighter. It couldn't be Quinn because she had left her keys behind on accident. A creak of the floor boards has Santana flat against the wall right behind the door.

Her bedroom door opens and she holds her breath. A figure pops their head through first and Santana pulls away from the wall ready for a swing until the lights suddenly turn on.

"AH DON'T SHOOT!"

"HOLYFUCKINSHITYOUPUTO!"

Santana eyes are barely adjusting but she knows that head of hair and that lean figure. Her hands are still around the bat as she just looks at her house intruder wide eyed.

"Okay, so using my key was probably not the best idea." Santana stays silent, her breathing uneven, "Santana? Santana put the bat down."

She takes a few moments before loosening her grip and finally setting the bat down on her nearby dresser, "What?" Her brain goes blank and she shakes her head, "What are you doing here?!" It comes out as a half yell half whisper.

6 foot frame, dark hair, loose fitting green shirt, worn out blue jeans and eyes no matter how wide they go they will never be fully open. He hasn't changed. His looks are still boyish with the stealth of a drunken frat boy. Surprising, since he is known to be light on his feet when it comes to anything else. But with the light on, Santana can see the exhaustion and the lack of sleep which probably mirrors her own features.

"I could have killed you!"

"Actually, from where you are you would have hit the door and at most wedged me in between. No major damage maybe some bruising." The two of them stare at each other before the smiles break out and Santana goes to hug the ridiculous Mike Chang.

Leave it Mike Chang to make a dangerous situation into a less dangerous one, even if his life was on the line. He hugs her tight and it's not one of Kurt's hugs or Trouty-mouth's. It's a certain kind that Santana has secretly kept to herself over the years.

"Brittany said you might need a friend." He pulls away enough for to watch Santana's features. His eyes searching her face as he keeps less than an arm's length away, "I'm guessing she was right." He pulls her in again and she can't stop the smile that creeps up on her.

"I'm not even going to ask how you got yourself over here."

Even though her head is buried in his chest she can feel the shit eating grin on his face as he lightly shakes her, "I owed you a favour, remember!"

* * *

4 AM and both friends are sitting across from each other at little hole in the wall diner on 119 Ave. It's classic and old but the their french toast are to die for. It's a walk from Santana's apartment but she didn't mind the air. And it doesn't hurt having an always energetic Mike Chang to tag along. He filled her in on all his doings in California. Thankfully, he didn't divulge too much information on Brittany.

"Mercedes has been asking about you." Mike sits comfortably in booth seats which normally anyone else would be stiff in but for Mike Chang, everything is laid back and easy, "She was wondering how that thing was going. I told her I knew as much as the next person."

Santana sips her coffee; she glances at the waitress who is sitting at the counter, not more than two booths away, iphone earplugs in.

"Everything is fine Mike."

Mike takes a good look and shakes his head with a wary smile, "No, you can't use that line. You might have been able to a couple years back but not anymore. You aren't fooling me." He sits upright with his hands clasping on the table, "Besides, we're practically family."

Her eyes soften at the word. Unknown to most of their friends Mike had actually kept in contact after the wedding along with Quinn. Of course Mike and Santana's friendship is completely platonic; he had become a brother figure over the years. Sometimes older, sometimes younger, mostly the ladder of the two when it came to his antics but Santana loved him all the more for it. Still does.

"It is a girl?" He tilts his head, "Is it a _guy_?" Santana frowns at the assumption but laughs at Mike's mocking relief, "I thought I might have to pop a can-"

Santana bursts with more laughter before he can finish his ridiculous impersonation. He smiles at her ease since it's the first time she has showed in the last hour. He prefers this over her holding a bat in her hands.

"It's me…being stupid." She begins to fiddle with the rim of her coffee cup, her eyes never meeting Mike's even though she can feel him staring, waiting for an explanation.

"Stupid over?" He lets the question hang because he knows it's someone. There are only a handful of people in the world that can make Santana look like she's done something incredibly stupid. Unsurprisingly, both of them are blonde.

Santana mulls over the thought in her head, "I'm just worried."

"Worried about?"

Santana rolls her eyes and pushes the empty coffee cup aside, "Don't act dumb Chang. It's beneath you and you're-"

"Asian."

"No, I was going to say you're full of shit for acting like you don't already know something." Mike smiles and shrugs.

"Okay, okay. So I _may_ know some things," He lets his hands go up with a nod, just like him to be the cocky son of a bitch everyone has grown to love, "But you're the one having trouble actually saying them." And he says this with a tone that makes Santana want to reach over and slap him because of his ability be so damn hard to be mad at.

"Oh come on, don't give me that look, Santana! I'm trying to help." He leans over a little bit to give the impression that he isn't trying to be an asshole but it's hard to overlook where Santana sits. When she doesn't explain he sits back again and frowns, "Oh. This is really getting to you."

She opts on not saying words and tosses her phone at him. All the trust in the world, knowing Mike can catch it. And he does. He unlocks the phone in record speed. She doesn't need to tell him where to check. He already knows by the look of his eyes scanning her call list and text messages.

"Who is 'DatAss'?" He scrunches his brow and looks up at Santana who rolls her eyes. As if it's an insult not to know her contact list by now, "I've never heard you call anyone that before."

She reaches over and plucks the phone away and takes a brief second to pull up contact information. She hands the phone back wordlessly and Mike only takes a split second before he starts to quietly laugh.

"That actually makes sense." He nods appreciatively at the picture of Quinn in something other than a dress. But as soon as he starts turning the phone in different angles Santana kicks him, "Ow! Okay, okay. I won't ogle your lady-"

Another kick.

"_FRIEND_! OURLADY FRIEND! Jesus." He gives her the phone back and uses his free hand to massage a shin, "I thought you two quit sleeping with each other?"

"We did."

"But you've called her 24 times in less than 12 hours for what I saw was at least a week…"

"She left two weeks ago and we haven't heard from her."

He straightens again with a little more seriousness in his demeanor, "Anything serious?"

"Don't know yet. She left with Frannie. The number is turned off."

"But you've called it-"

"It was turned off recently. Like _today_ recently."

Mike narrows his eyes and bites his lip in thought, his mind going through possible outcomes and answers, "Any ideas?"

They are silent until Santana leans forward on her arms, "You still have that dancer friend up at Yale?"

"Yeah, I do. I can ask if he's seen her around. I can actually ask the entire club. What if they do see her?"

"Nothing. They do nothing. We do nothing."

Santana sits back and sighs. Her hands drumming against the table to a beat that is unfamiliar to Mike, but he adds to it anyway. The little music break doesn't last long because the waitress returns to refill the coffee cups.

Mike offers a quick 'thank you' but the waitress pays no mind as she smiles at Santana, "That was pretty good." Santana frowns but catches on and smiles back unsure of what to say. When nothing more is said the waitress leaves again and takes a seat a little closer to their table this time.

* * *

Their diner visits become frequent and always around 4AM. Their waitress always stays the same, a detail that Mike takes full advantage of after their third visit. It isn't until their fifth visit that Santana tells him not everyone plays for the opposing team. He doesn't believe her at first, because Mike always needs to be proved wrong. It takes her less than five minutes with a little shameless flirting that Mike throws in the towel, a napkin in this case, and says he will never understand how he can never tell.

"So I heard-"

Santana stops him with a shake of her head, "The Wonder Twins went up this weekend."

Mike nearly jumps out of the booth with the news, "Did they find her? Is she okay? Did Frannie put that guy in jail? Because I thought he was tenured."

"Whoa there sailor. Whoa. One question at a time." Santana has hand up which makes Mike, sit back to listen, "They didn't _find_ her, they _saw_ her. She was with Frannie heading towards the dean's office. I don't know much more than that. They tried calling her name across the quad but who would have known that 1000 other people would turn their head at the name Quinn. She's alive and she isn't with-"

"Her dad like you feared?"

"Yeah."

"Are Kurt and Rachel coming back anytime soon?"

"They already are. They tried to run into her after the dean's office but Kurt guessed they took another exit out. Tinkerbell and Eliza came back this afternoon.

Mike nods a little too enthusiastically, "And?"

"This isn't a movie Mike…" Mike pulls a face of defeat and shrugs back into his seat. His enthusiasm dwindling.

"It sounded like one."

* * *

A couple days go by and their routine does not change. Most of their 4AM diner visits are because Santana no longer sleeps at night. She refuses to admit it's due to the lingering thought of Quinn being around for so long. Mike doesn't push it but he knows their usual bed tumbles only ever lasted a couple hours. He's heard the stories ( all from Santana ) and knows Quinn's stay was the longest Santana had ever spent with Quinn past high school championships and away games. Mike tries his best to tread the line, making sure he doesn't say anything too close to home. Or what the real problem is. The last time he voiced his opinions on Santana's love life, he went back to L.A with black eye. Of course Brittany was the one to tell him, he should know better than to fight with wombats.

It's Mike's last night and he's unsure how to leave without telling Santana that she should stop worrying. Not that he ever really understood their relationship but he knows Santana well enough that it isn't something she should be too stressed about.

"I feel like I'm still needed…"

Santana punches in the arm as the two of them stand in his midtown hotel lobby, "Shut up."

He grabs her retreating arm and pulls her to him. Her giggle is enough for him to be at peace on the flight back, "You better take care of yourself out here."

"Wow, okay _Dad_." She makes a movement to push away but he hugs her tighter with a smile.

"I'm serious, Santana. Had I known earlier, I would have taken the class offer and hung out more." Santana finally throws her arms around him. A little dramatic but in front of his entire dance party, she figures she owes him something.

"I wouldn't have let you drown yourself in my problems."

He finally pulls away, his boyish smile making her punch him again lightly, "I'm serious, Lopez. You need anything. You better call me. I don't care if it's for an emergency care package of chocolate during a bad week or if it's just to say you miss that one girl from that TV show that died."

Santana does a mock gasp, "Don't jinx it just because you know things before I do!"

"Don't hate." He starts to walk backwards with a smile. His thumbs hooking under his backpack straps just like he used to all those times in high school. She finally waves him goodbye and he winks. Of course it causes her to shake her head but she keeps her 'thank you' quiet. She knows Mike already knows her well enough that she doesn't have to say it.


End file.
